


Too Good to Be True

by dreamsofspike



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine is coming home with Kurt to spend Christmas with his family. Kurt's excited to introduce his new boyfriend to his family, but more than a little worried about the impression Blaine will make -- especially since all is not as it seems between them.</p><p>domestic abuse, violence, dark!blaine</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“So… what do you think are the chances that your dad will be waiting by the front door with a shotgun when we get there?”

 

Blaine took his eyes off the road ahead of them for just a moment, a teasing grin on his face as he quirked an eyebrow in Kurt’s direction. Kurt couldn’t quite suppress the smirk of amusement that rose to his lips at the question, although the actual image that sprung to his mind was more horrifying than funny – because it wasn’t really all that far-fetched an idea.

 

“Slim to none,” he assured Blaine, shaking his head. “My father doesn’t own a gun.” Kurt was silent for a moment, executing his flawless sense of dramatic timing when he added a beat later, “Well… he didn’t when I left, anyway. I _have_ been talking about you a lot lately…”

 

“Shut up!” Blaine laughed without taking his eyes from the windshield, reaching out a hand to blindly shove at Kurt’s shoulder. “I’m freaked out enough already!”

 

Kurt dodged the light blow with a soft laugh, reaching out a hand to run affectionately through the hair at the back of Blaine’s head, as Blaine allowed his own hand to fall to rest casually on Kurt’s thigh.

 

“Don’t be.” Kurt tried to be encouraging, though he knew that, all joking aside, the task of meeting with Burt Hummel’s approval was a very real challenge that Blaine faced during this visit. Shotgun or no, Kurt’s father could be very intimidating when he wanted to be. Still, Kurt promised with a bright, genuine smile, “They’re going to love you. How could they not?”

 

He couldn’t imagine anyone knowing his sweet, wonderful boyfriend for more than a few minutes without falling head over heels in love with him. Well, maybe not quite as head over heels as _he_ had fallen, because that was hardly _possible_ – but Blaine was everything that he’d ever hoped for, in the long years he’d spent wishing for the dream boyfriend that he had been fairly certain he’d never really find.

 

Blaine was affectionate and attentive, talented and intelligent and devastatingly romantic. Kurt would never forget the afternoon nearly a month earlier, when Blaine had asked him out – on a real, official, actual _date_. He’d taken him to a nice restaurant, the kind of place his old friends wouldn’t have been able to _pronounce_ , much less afford. He’d paid for the meal, and then taken Kurt for a walk in a moonlit park – just the two of them in the frosty winter air, with the sparkling starlight overhead, and Blaine’s arm wrapped around him, warm and protective, to shield against the chill.

 

It had felt like a dream – and that was before Blaine had stopped them along a breathtaking overlook, turning to face him and taking both of his hands and asking – actually _asking_ for _permission_ – to kiss him.

 

Of course, Kurt couldn’t have said anything but yes – and the same was true at the end of the evening, when Blaine dropped him off at the door to his room, kissed him softly again, and asked Kurt if he would do him the honor of being his boyfriend.

 

“Blaine,” Kurt persisted when he couldn’t help but notice the nervous tension in the set of Blaine’s jaw, the way his smile was a little too tight, “Seriously. _Relax_. It’s going to be fine. I promise I won’t let my dad give you too hard a time.”

 

Blaine’s smile softened a little at Kurt’s reassurances, and he gave Kurt’s leg a grateful squeeze, just as they stopped at the first light entering Lima. His attention momentarily free, Blaine turned toward Kurt and reached out his free hand to brush against Kurt’s face in an affectionate caress.

 

Without really meaning to, Kurt tensed slightly at the unexpected contact, his mind immediately going back to the previous evening – and Blaine’s smile faded instantly at his reaction. Kurt’s stomach clenched, and he braced himself for the continuation of the argument they’d had the night before, biting his lower lip and forcing himself to meet Blaine’s gaze, afraid of what he would see there.

 

But all he saw was a deep sense of regret in Blaine’s sad dark eyes. Blaine tilted his head slightly as he ran his thumb very gently across Kurt’s cheek.

 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Blaine murmured, and the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes proved his words true. “It will _never_ happen again – all right? I promise.”

 

Kurt nodded, closing his eyes and leaning deliberately into Blaine’s fingertips in silent acceptance of his promise. He could feel the sincerity in Blaine’s gentle, almost reverent touch – hear it in the rough sound of his voice.

 

Blaine was right, Kurt was sure.

 

 _Because I’m not going to screw up again. If I can be what he needs me to be – make him happy… if I can just keep things from getting so out of hand again… then everything will be just fine._

 _He’s right. It’s never going to happen again._

He settled back in his seat to enjoy the rest of the ride home, content in the closeness and affection of his boyfriend, eager to see his family after several weeks apart from them. Everything was going to be just fine, he reassured himself, drawing in a deep, steadying breath.

 

He was going to spend the next few days surrounded by those closest to him, the people he loved most in the world. His father, and his new mother and step-brother who had already begun to fill a void in their family that Kurt hadn’t even realized existed – and his new boyfriend, when a year ago Kurt would have been certain that he’d _never_ find someone to love him as completely, as passionately as Blaine did.

 

Yes, everything was just perfect – and this was going to be the best Christmas ever.

*************************************

 

“They’re here!”

 

“Geez, Finn, we’ll know it in a second anyway when they get to the door. Do you have to shout it at the top of your lungs?” Burt grumbled.

 

Finn was pretty sure it was just a reaction to his own embarrassment over the way he’d immediately leapt to his feet and hurried to look out the window with Finn as soon as he had spoken. Burt was trying to stay calm and casual about the whole thing, but even Finn could see the anxious curiosity in his eyes as he peered past Finn out at the driveway where Kurt’s Navigator had just parked.

 

Finn frowned when he saw a barely familiar face emerge from the driver’s side of the car, recognizing the boy he had only met on the day they’d dropped Kurt off at Dalton. “Why’s he driving Kurt’s car?”

 

Burt was frowning, too, a wary note in his voice. “Guess Kurt let him drive. Not so sure he should be doing that…”

 

Carole approached at his side, reaching out to place a steadying hand on his arm, a knowing smile in her eyes. “Our insurance covers it.” She was quiet for a second, patting Burt’s arm soothingly as she added, “I used to let my boyfriends drive all the time when I was his age.”

 

“But…”

 

“Let it go, sweetie.” Her tone was gentle but firm, and she held his gaze until she was certain she’d made her point, before turning away and heading toward the kitchen. “Your baby is dating now, Burt,” she added. “You’d better start getting used to the idea – and to the idea of picking your battles.”

 

“What?” Burt headed off after her, an uneasy sound to his rising voice. “What is _that_ supposed to mean? What _battles_?”

 

Finn left them to their conversation as he headed out the front door to help Kurt and Blaine with their bags.

 

When Kurt saw him, a brilliant smile broke out across his face, and Finn’s response to it was automatic – instinctive. He moved forward to envelope the smaller boy in a warm, tight hug that clearly caught Kurt off guard, judging by the way he froze a moment in Finn’s embrace before tentatively returning it.

 

Finn supposed that was to be expected. After all, the last time he’d hugged Kurt – at their parents’ wedding – had also been the _first_ time he’d _ever_ hugged Kurt. The thought that Kurt was gradually getting used to the idea that Finn was now really and truly okay with him – with being _physically close_ to him – was reassuring to Finn, but it also made him feel a little guilty that it had taken this long.

 

During the past month, he and Kurt had talked quite a bit on the phone – probably more than they’d ever talked in person in the entire time that they’d known each other – and Finn had been surprised at how much he’d actually enjoyed their conversations. More than once, Kurt had helped Finn out of a jam in his relationship with Rachel, giving him sound advice from a perspective he hadn’t considered before.

 

And when their conversations occasionally turned toward deeper things, Finn was amazed to find out how much they actually had in common. Finn didn’t know why it had never occurred to him before that Kurt had been through a lot of the same things he’d been through, and could relate to him in ways he hadn’t expected.

 

He’d never stopped thinking of him as _‘the weird gay kid who likes me’_ for long enough to give him a chance.

 

 _But I’m going to make up for it now,_ Finn reminded himself as he released his grip on his new little brother and drew back to turn his attention toward Blaine. _I’m going to prove to Kurt that things aren’t going to be like they used to be – not anymore._

“Hey, Blaine. How’s it going?”

 

“Great. Merry Christmas Eve!”

 

Blaine’s smile was bright and warm, but a little forced, and Finn felt a slight resistance to the half-hug, half-handshake he offered in the smaller boy’s frame – but he supposed that if he was faced with the rather intimidating prospect of proving himself to Burt Hummel as a worthy boyfriend for his only son (and being stuck in the same house with him for several days, regardless of whether or not he succeeded), he would be pretty nervous, too.

 

Finn turned his attention back to Kurt as Blaine headed for the back of the car to open it up and unload their bags. He slung a companionable arm around Kurt’s shoulders as the two of them followed Blaine, a little more slowly, to load up and take the things inside.

 

“So, I had the hardest time figuring out what to get for your dad,” Finn confessed, “but I know you said he needs to be eating healthy and stuff, and he likes to eat a lot of meat, and those two things don’t really go together, so I figured I’d get him one of those George Foreman grills, you know? They cook food so that it’s healthier, but it still tastes just as good usually. My mom had one but it stopped working right, so she threw it out when we moved…”

 

Kurt smiled, nodding. “That’s a good idea.”

 

“Really?” Finn was hopeful. “You think it’s something he wants?”

 

“I think it’s something he _needs_.” Kurt shrugged lightly out from under Finn’s arm as they reached the pile of bags at the back of the Navigator, and leaned down to pick up one in each hand. “When it comes to his health, I’m not really all that interested in what he _wants_.”

 

Finn laughed, picking up a couple of the bags himself and heading toward the house. “Kurt – _dude_. You’re only staying for a few days. How many bags did you _bring_?”

 

“Only two of these are mine,” Blaine volunteered from behind them as Finn set the bags down long enough to open the front door again.

 

“There is a method to my madness, believe it or not,” Kurt sniffed, pretending to be more offended than he actually was. “Half the stuff in those bags, I’m going to be leaving here when I go…”

 

Finn frowned, confused, and Kurt smiled slyly.

 

“… leaving plenty of room for my Christmas presents in my empty bags.”

 

Finn froze for a moment, considering. “I never would have thought of that.”

 

“I know,” Kurt smugly replied, rolling his eyes and letting out a put-upon sigh. “I have _so much_ to teach you…”

 

He caught Finn’s eye a moment later, though, and his expression was warm and teasing. Finn couldn’t help but smile back, despite the fact that the joke was at his expense, as he closed the door behind them, shutting out the cold winter air, and shutting them in with the warm scents of his mother’s cooking and the Christmas candles she’d lit earlier. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and feeling a deep sense of contentment settle over him.

 

They were all together and safe and happy, for the first time in as long as Finn could remember. It was the first Christmas Finn had ever had with a real, complete family – more than just himself and his mom – and he was certain that it was going to be the best Christmas ever.


	2. Chapter 2

Five minutes into their Christmas Eve dinner, it was clear that Blaine was making a very good first impression.

 

 _Of course_ Blaine was making a good first impression.

 

Kurt really hadn’t expected anything else.

 

His manners were impeccable, his every word and gesture possessing a sort of natural charm that didn’t seem forced or even deliberate. Kurt watched in awe as one by one, each member of his family began to let down their protective defenses and slowly fall under the spell that had overtaken him from the first moment that he and Blaine had met.

 

Blaine wisely started by complimenting Carole on the meal, and then on the lovely spring green scarf she was wearing. “Kurt picked that out, didn’t he?” he guessed with a secretive wink.

 

Carole laughed in surprise, glancing between the two boys. “Well, yes, actually, he did. Only, he wanted me to buy it in rose…”

 

“That sounds pretty, but I think the green suits you.”

 

“Well, thank you, Blaine, that’s nice of you to say.”

 

Carole had looked quite pleased with his comments, and Kurt was impressed with the way Blaine had managed to both demonstrate how well he knew and appreciated Kurt’s taste and stylistic skill, and also leave Carole feeling flattered that he liked _her_ style as well.

 

“So, you’re on the football team?” Blaine addressed his attention to Finn next, giving him an admiring smile when he nodded. “I love football. Too small to play, obviously, but I love to watch. What position do you play?”

 

“I’m the quarterback,” Finn replied with pride. “But, who says you’re too small to play? Kurt was on the team for a little while. Did you know that?”

 

Blaine gave Kurt an affectionate smile, his gaze intent and somehow too intimate for the dinner table. Kurt looked away, blushing a little under his attention. “Yeah,” Blaine replied, turning his eyes back toward Finn, “but he’s got this natural grace that makes him good at that kind of thing.  Too bad my coordination isn’t all that great. I think I’d kick the ball and end up flat on my back. No, I’ll just stick to watching.”

 

Kurt noticed with relief that his father actually cracked a smile at Blaine’s little joke. If Blaine was beginning to win over Burt Hummel already, then he was even better than Kurt had thought.

 

“So, Mr. Hummel… Kurt tells me you own your own body shop?”

 

“Yeah.” Burt raised one eyebrow, his smile replaced with a skeptical look as he asked, “You into cars? Kurt didn’t say anything.”

 

Kurt held his breath for a moment, looking away. He knew how intimidating his dad could be, how eager Blaine was to impress him, how easy it would be for Blaine to lie and say “yes” just in order to please Kurt’s father – and how swiftly and ruthlessly his dad would expose that lie, within moments, if he did.

 

“Honestly?” Blaine’s tone was self-deprecating, his smile rueful and apologetic. “I don’t have the first clue about cars. But you know… I’d like to. I’ve always had an interest, I just… never had anyone to teach me, you know?”

 

“Your dad not mechanically inclined?” Burt’s skepticism faded into something gentler, genuinely interested.

 

“My dad passed away when I was three,” Blaine explained with a little shrug. “I don’t even remember him. And my mom – well, she never dated after that, and it certainly wasn’t anything _she_ was into. So… I guess I just never got the opportunity to learn.” Blaine glanced self-consciously down at the table before looking up again with a little self-mocking laugh. “I know where to put the gas, oil, and coolant. That’s about it.”

 

Kurt glanced anxiously at his dad, half-afraid that Burt would take the excuse to dismiss his son’s boyfriend as a clueless moron with whom he had nothing in common. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that, while Finn seemed to be oblivious as usual, Carole had subtly focused her attention on Burt as well, quietly waiting for him to pass judgment as he slowly, thoughtfully, chewed the bite of food he’d taken while Blaine was talking.

 

He swallowed, washing it down with a sip of his drink before giving Blaine a slight, cautious smile and a little nod. “We’ll just have to get you down here with Kurt for a few weekends – let the two of us show you a few things.”

 

Blaine’s face lit up with genuine gratitude and excitement. “That sounds great, Mr. Hummel. Thanks…”

 

“It’s Burt.” Burt rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little as he added, “We’re not too formal in this house, Blaine. If we’re gonna be seeing as much of you as I think we are, might as well make yourself comfortable.”

 

Kurt tried to restrain his elation at what was as close to an official stamp of approval as Burt was likely to offer, waiting until his dad glanced in his direction to give him a warm, grateful smile and mouth the words, “ _Thank you_.”

 

Burt returned his smile, giving a little shrug of mock-surrender.

 

The conversation hadn’t gone much farther when Blaine managed to bring up football again. Kurt was torn between affection and annoyance at his sports-obsessed boyfriend, but affection won out due to the fact that football was something he knew that Finn and Blaine would have in common.

 

“So, do you _watch_ football, too? Or just play?”

 

“ _Dude_. Are you kidding me? _Of course_ I watch football.” Finn grinned. “What’re your teams? You know… besides the Buckeyes, obviously.”

 

“I don’t support anyone else.” Blaine shook his head with a dismissive gesture of his hand. “I guess I’m just an all-or-nothing kind of guy. I wish they were having a better season, though…”

 

Just about the time that Kurt started to lose track of their conversation and tune them out, Finn interrupted. “Hey, Blaine… it’s really cool that you’re into football, too. That’ll give us stuff to talk about later. But we’re losing your boyfriend, here…”

 

Kurt blushed, eyes wide and startled as both boys turned their attention toward him. “What? No… it’s fine…” He shook his head, glancing between them self-consciously. “I don’t mind…”

 

“You’re only here for a few days, man,” Finn pointed out. “Let’s talk about something _you’re_ into, too.”

 

Kurt was touched by the genuine warmth and affection he saw on Finn’s face, and the knowledge that Finn _really cared_ about making sure that he was included and having a good time. It was so foreign to him, such a drastic turnaround from the way Finn used to treat him, that he wasn’t really sure how to react to it.

 

He smiled, glancing down at the table for a moment before looking up at Blaine beside him – and his stomach did an uneasy little flip-flop at the expression he saw on Blaine’s face.

 

Blaine was still smiling, but his smile had gone a little cold, and there was something dark and smoldering in his pensive, speculative gaze. His eyes drifted back and forth between Kurt and Finn, studying them, as if he was trying to figure something out – and Kurt was almost certain that he was reaching the wrong conclusions.

 

“Really, I don’t mind the football talk,” Kurt insisted, looking away from Blaine and swallowing hard, his mouth suddenly feeling dry, his hand trembling a little as he reached for his glass and took a sip, avoiding both Finn’s and Blaine’s gaze as he went on, “I need to get used to it, actually. I mean… my brother’s a quarterback and my boyfriend’s a football fanatic. Guess I should know a little more about the game, right?”

 

He glanced up at Blaine again uncertainly, but Blaine was looking down at his plate as he took a bite.

 

“And you know… if I get too tired of all the sports talk, well… Carole and I need to catch up anyway,” Kurt concluded, masking the little tremor in his voice with a soft laugh as he looked up to meet her eyes.

 

Carole nodded, reaching across the table to gently squeeze his hand. “We sure do.”

 

The tension that no one else seemed to have noticed passed as the conversation shifted back to football for a while, and then to their respective glee clubs, and finally to their plans for the rest of the break. Once they were all too stuffed to eat another bite, they made their way into the living room, settling down into the more comfortable sofa and chairs to watch _It’s a Wonderful Life_ on television.

 

The movie had been a Hummel family tradition since Kurt’s mother had made it one, back when he was too young to understand the movie, and only knew that he enjoyed the feeling of laying his head in her lap and feeling her cool, gentle fingers stroking idly through his hair as she watched the Christmas classic that _she’d_ grown up on, as well.

 

Occasionally the hypnotic motion of her hand would stop, and Kurt would look up to see her dabbing at her eyes with a tissue – and he vividly remembered the softening of compassion in her clear green eyes as she’d seen the confusion and worry he’d felt, and reassured him that she was all right, that these were the _good, happy_ kind of tears – the kind of tears one shed when they’d simply seen something too beautiful to be able to express it in any other way.

 

Kurt didn’t really understand – and the bitter tears he’d shed the Christmas Eve after she passed away, when his father had insisted on keeping up her tradition, had been anything but happy.

 

Kurt was eleven years old when he finally discovered what she’d been talking about – but it wasn’t during their annual screening of _It’s a Wonderful Life_. It was when his father took him to a community theater production of _Phantom of the Opera_. The music alone had brought him to tears, and Kurt finally understood what his mother had been trying to tell him.

 

He’d never felt so close to her, before or since.

 

Now, Kurt found himself becoming a little misty-eyed with the memories that always accompanied this movie in his mind. When he closed his eyes against the tears, he could almost feel her fingers in his hair, could almost smell the sweet scent of the perfume that still lingered in her dresser upstairs.

 

Then, Kurt did feel the soft touch of a hand caressing through his hair, followed by the light brush of Blaine’s lips against his temple.

 

“You all right, babe?” Blaine murmured, too soft for anyone else to hear.

 

Kurt glanced around, hoping that no one had noticed his emotional reaction, or the comforting affection it had drawn from Blaine. Finn was sitting beside them on the sofa, but he seemed to be nodding off every few minutes. Burt was in his armchair, with Carole on the floor between his legs. He was leaning forward a little, gently massaging her shoulders – either not paying any attention to his son and his boyfriend, or trying really hard to look as if he wasn’t.

 

Kurt nodded at last, not trusting himself to speak, and tilting his head to rest against Blaine’s shoulder, snuggling in closer to him. Blaine’s arm tightened protectively around him, and Kurt couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so safe and loved.

 

The next thing he knew, a gentle hand was shaking his shoulder, rousing him from sleep.

 

Kurt blinked into the darkness that had fallen over the room when someone turned the television off.

 

“Movie’s over,” Blaine informed him unnecessarily.

 

“Come on, kid,” Burt yawned as he rose to his feet. “Time to go to bed.” He turned his attention to Blaine, adding, “You’ll be sharing Finn’s room while you’re here.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Blaine immediately agreed, nodding.

 

Kurt frowned. “The basement’s bigger…”

 

“Kurt, honey…” Carole cut him off gently, a sparkle of amused warning in her eyes, “give it up. There’s not a chance in the world that he’s going to budge on this one.”

 

Kurt sighed, reaching down to squeeze Blaine’s hand and offering a regretful, “Good night.”

 

He didn’t even dare to kiss his boyfriend goodnight – not with his father still lingering, pointedly waiting for them to go off to their separate rooms for the night. Blaine squeezed his hand back, nodding, and echoing his words.

 

“Good night.”

 

Once Kurt reached his own room, he remembered that there was a reason why he should be grateful for the privacy. He changed into his favorite pair of grey silk pajamas, brushed his teeth, then sat down at his vanity table to carefully wash his face clean of the makeup he’d been wearing all day – makeup so expertly applied that no one had even guessed that he was wearing it.

 

Kurt winced slightly as he ran the cool, damp cloth over his right cheek, but didn’t stop until he’d managed to remove every trace of the concealer and foundation he’d applied that morning before leaving his room at Dalton.

 

 _It’s really a good thing I’ve got the room to myself_ , he realized. _Because that means I can lock the door… and I’ll have to be sure I reapply the makeup in the morning before anyone else sees me…_

 

A slight creaking on the stairs made Kurt’s heart leap up into his throat, and he froze, turning dread-filled eyes toward them, automatically raising one hand to cover his right cheek. A moment later he allowed himself to relax as Blaine appeared halfway down the stairs, glancing anxiously back up them before giving Kurt an almost giddy grin.

 

“It’s just me,” he stage-whispered as he left the stairs and crossed the room to wrap his arms around Kurt’s waist and draw him close. “I couldn’t _actually_ go to bed without kissing you goodnight.”

 

Kurt bit his lower lip, looking uneasily up the stairs. “You want to undo the good impression you just made?” he whispered. “If we get caught…”

 

“We won’t. I locked the door on my way in. Carole’s asleep already, and your dad’s in the shower,” Blaine explained. “And Finn knows I’m down here. He won’t tell.”

 

Blaine leaned in to softly kiss Kurt’s lips, and Kurt yielded to the kiss, letting go of his apprehension and accepting that the chances of their getting caught were slim to none. Blaine’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him closer, off balance a little, and Kurt began backing toward his bed, pulling Blaine back with him. Blaine let out a soft, surprised little puff of laughter against Kurt’s mouth, not breaking their kiss, as he stumbled and fell hard onto the bed, Kurt beneath him.

 

Kurt let out a sharp hiss of pain at the unexpected pressure as their faces fairly collided on impact – and Blaine froze over him, going suddenly still and silent. Kurt could feel the intensity of his gaze, but dared not look up at him, his face flushed with shame.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I’m sorry…”

 

“No.” Blaine’s voice was hushed, heavy with regret, and Kurt ventured a look up into his dark, sad gaze, focused not on Kurt’s eyes, but on the livid purple bruise now exposed on his cheek. “No, baby… _I’m_ sorry. I’m _so, so sorry_ …”

 

“It’s okay,” Kurt whispered automatically, letting his head fall back as Blaine kissed his throat – small, desperate kisses with an almost feverish intensity.

 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” Blaine murmured pleadingly, again and again between kisses, working his way up Kurt’s neck until he reached the dark spot on his cheek. “I’m… so sorry, baby… never wanted to… to hurt you…”

 

Kurt could feel the cool moisture of Blaine’s tears falling against his face, and his own eyes welled up at the pain that was coming through so clearly in every kiss, every hoarse, desperate word.

 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I know… I know, it’s all right…”

 

Blaine rose up to meet Kurt’s eyes, and the dark intensity Kurt saw there sent a shiver down his spine. Still, he could not look away as Blaine continued, his words low and intent.

 

“I just… the way he was _looking_ at you, and… and you were looking _back_ , and… I just got so _scared_ , Kurt. I just…”

 

“I know…”

 

Kurt raised a hand to stroke soothingly through the hair at the back of Blaine’s head as Blaine lowered his face to press against Kurt’s shoulder, shaking it slowly in despair.

 

“I’m just so freakin’ _scared_ , of… of losing you, baby. I can’t lose you. I love you _so much_ …”

 

“I love you, too,” Kurt whispered. “It’s all right. You… you don’t have to be scared. You’re not gonna lose me…”

 

Abruptly Blaine pulled away from Kurt’s embrace, rising up on his arms to stare down into Kurt’s eyes with an intensity that was frightening. Kurt could feel his heart racing against his ribcage, his breath quickening with apprehension, and he couldn’t quite suppress a flinch as Blaine traced gentle fingertips along the outline of the bruise on his cheek.

 

“Sometimes…” Blaine’s tone was unnaturally calm now, guarded, as if he was only barely restraining some dangerous emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. “… sometimes, I think… that _Finn’s_ looking at you like that…”

 

“What?” Kurt shook his head rapidly, fighting back a sense of impending panic as Blaine’s strong hands closed around his arms, pinning him down to the bed. “No. No, he’s… he’s my _brother_ , Blaine. He wouldn’t… he _doesn’t_ …”

 

 _God, he’s_ so strong. _If he wanted to, he could…_

 

“Yeah,” Blaine sneered softly, and while his tone was not angry – _not yet_ – there was an unmistakable note of resentment in his slightly trembling words. “Your _brother_ that you’ve spent the last few years madly in love with…”

 

“Blaine… _please_ ,” Kurt whispered, his stomach clenching, sick with his rising fear. “Please, it’s not like that…”

 

“Tell me I’m the only one you want.” Blaine’s voice was hushed but trembling, demanding and desperate.

 

“What… Blaine…” Kurt shook his head, bewildered.

 

“ _Tell me_.”

 

Blaine’s grip on his arms tightened until it was painful, and Kurt swallowed back a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. His voice shook with fear, timid and pleading, his body braced for the worst, if Blaine should not believe him.

 

 _But he_ has _to believe me… if I can just get through to him, just make him see how much I love him, then he’ll calm down… he’ll hold me, and he won’t hurt me, and he’ll just be_ Blaine _again… please…_

 

“You’re the only one, Blaine. You _are_. You’re the only one I want…”

 

“Tell me you love me.”

 

“Blaine, you _know_ I do… _please_ …” Tears slipped from Kurt’s eyes, and he couldn’t stop the soft sob that accompanied them. “Please, you’re _hurting_ me…”

 

“Tell me you want me.”

 

“I want you… _I want you_ …”

 

Kurt’s desperate, pleading words were swallowed up in another deep, possessive kiss that took his breath, and he surrendered to it, relieved when Blaine released his grip on his arms to instead slide his arms around him. Kurt returned his embrace, willingly losing himself in his boyfriend – in arms that were gentle and protective, lips that kissed him as if they were drowning, and he was the only thing that could save them.

 

Kurt shut out the darkness of his fears and the memories that filled his mind, shutting out all thoughts of what had happened the night before, and the painful reminder of it on his face, until the only thing that consumed his every thought was _Blaine_.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt blinked sleepily into the dim morning light that filtered through his high bedroom windows, momentarily a little disoriented. He remembered falling asleep with Blaine beside him, Blaine’s arms wrapped around him, feeling utterly content and safe and protected – but there was no one in bed with him now.

 

He sat up slowly in his bed, looking around the room to find that he was indeed alone. The clock on his nightstand read 9:45. Kurt’s stomach lurched as he realized that at any moment, any one of his family members might decide to come down and wake him up to spend Christmas morning with the rest of them.

 

 _And if they come down here, right now… God, if they came down here at all_ last night… _then… then they could have seen…_

 

Kurt’s hand flew automatically to his bruised cheek, and he winced as he got out of bed and hurried up the stairs. He checked the door, and let out a shaky sigh of relief when he found it locked.

 

 _Blaine must have locked it again when he left…_

 

Kurt was mostly grateful for that fact, but the realization that Blaine had so consciously thought to cover his tracks was also a little bit disturbing. Kurt tried to put it out of his mind and think about the lovely day that lay ahead of him, a day of celebration with those closest to him.

 

 _This is going to be great. I’ve missed my family so much, and I get to be home for a whole week, and Blaine’s already made an amazing impression on them… they all like him and accept him, and this is going to be the best Christmas ever…_

 

Kurt tried to mentally psych himself up as he got dressed and carefully applied his makeup, then styled his hair with his usual precision – all while trying not to think about the fact that he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet his own eyes in the mirror. Once he was satisfied that no one would notice anything amiss simply by looking at him, Kurt ventured up the stairs and out onto the main floor of the house.

 

He immediately realized that he needn’t have worried.

 

He seemed to be the only one awake.

 

Kurt made his way down the quiet hallway, enjoying the soft warmth of the sunlight filtered through the drawn blinds, and the peaceful hush that covered the house. Dalton was awesome, and he loved the constant activity and excitement – the way that he could walk out into the hall of his dorm room at any time of day or night and find something fun going on, or at least someone to talk to.

 

But, sometimes… he really missed home.

 

Kurt stood in the living room doorway, admiring the Christmas tree, with all its random, not-even-remotely matching ornaments, most of which he’d made himself as a child. There were some others that he didn’t recognize at all, which had to be Finn’s childhood contributions. The lights were large and multi-colored, whereas if it had been up to him, they’d have been tiny and white, and arranged a bit more symmetrically than his family had placed them.

 

None of that mattered; Kurt still thought it was beautiful – not that he intended to admit that to his family, if they asked.

 

Kurt startled as he was suddenly embraced from behind, warm arms wrapping around his shoulders in a hug. Before he could register who it was that was touching him, or what their intentions were, Kurt had already flinched and let out a sharp little gasp at the unexpected contact. He turned quickly to see Carole behind him, still in her pajamas, a spatula in one hand. There was an expression of mingled concern and amusement on her face as she laughed softly.

 

“Why so jumpy, sweetie?”

 

Kurt forced a laugh to match hers, stepping forward and offering her the hug he’d failed to return the first time. “Still half asleep, is all,” he explained, rolling his eyes at his own silly reaction. “Thought I was the only one up.”

 

“I’m just starting to make breakfast,” Carole explained, giving him an inviting nod toward the kitchen before heading off in that direction. “Wanna help me?”

 

“No one’s up to eat it yet,” he pointed out as he followed her. “But, sure, I’ll help…”

 

“We’re not making anything that won’t reheat.” Carole smiled. “This way, it’s done, and we get to enjoy the rest of the morning. Everyone can stick a plate in the microwave when they’re ready to eat.”

 

“Sounds good,” Kurt agreed. “Especially because I don’t really have time to eat right now. I have to go out for a little while.”

 

Carole frowned. “It’s _Christmas_ …”

 

“I know, and I won’t be long,” Kurt assured her, “but Mercedes and I have plans to meet up and exchange our gifts for each other this morning. It won’t affect our plans any, I promise.”

 

The Hudson-Hummel clan didn’t have anything in particular planned for that morning, allowing everyone to sleep in until they felt like getting up. They would take their time getting up, relaxing and enjoying their time off for a little while, before having a light lunch, followed by their family gift exchange. Then, Carole had suggested that the five of them play a game or something, before everyone pitching in to put together a traditional Christmas dinner.

 

“Just be sure you’re back here by twelve,” Carole advised as they put the last of the breakfast food on the dining room table at just after ten. She paused, a thoughtful frown on her face as she added, “Do you think maybe you should wake Blaine up and let him know you’re leaving?”

 

Kurt considered that for a moment, glancing toward the kitchen doorway. As of yet, there had been no signs of life from any of the closed bedroom doors beyond it. He knew Blaine well enough by now to know that he was not exactly a morning person.

 

“Let him sleep,” he decided at last. “Just let him know where I went when he wakes up, okay?”

 

“No problem, sweetie. Hurry back.”

 

**********************************

 

“Really, Mercedes. It’s okay. Quit apologizing,” Kurt insisted as he made his way quickly back to his car from Mercedes’ doorstep, anxious to get back into the heat of his vehicle. “It’s not a big deal…”

 

“But you came out to my house on Christmas just to have nobody be there, and I thought you _knew_. I left a message on your voicemail to let you know I wasn’t going to be there…” Mercedes sounded nearly distraught with guilt. “I’m so sorry…”

 

“It was a last minute change of plans,” Kurt reassured her. “You can’t help it if your family decided to go out of town for Christmas instead, and it sounds like you tried to tell me. I’m not sure why the message didn’t go through, but it’s not really a big deal. We can get together when you get back.”

 

“Okay. I’m just sorry you had to go out like that, in the cold and all, on _Christmas Day_ …”

 

“’Cedes. Sweetie. _Please stop_ beating yourself up over this. It’s _fine_. I’ll see you when you get back,” Kurt firmly insisted. “Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Mercedes sighed, relenting at last. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. Merry Christmas, Kurt.”

 

“Merry Christmas.”

 

Kurt hung up the phone and put it in his pocket before starting the engine and backing down the driveway with a little sigh. It was a little bit disappointing; he’d been looking forward to seeing Mercedes for the first time in several weeks. But it wasn’t as if she could help it, and he knew he’d be able to see her soon.

 

Kurt headed for home – then took a different turn at the last moment, and headed through town. He had a little bit of time to kill, and now that he lived in a dorm room, and his house had twice the occupants it used to, time alone was a precious, rare thing to come by. Kurt just drove down the familiar streets of his hometown, smiling a little at the frosted windows and twinkling lights that sparkled as he passed, allowing his mind to go back over the memories he’d made in this town, with his dad and his friends.

 

 _Funny how I didn’t realize how much I missed it here until I came back…_

 

When he glanced down at his watch and noticed that it was after eleven, Kurt decided that it was time to head for home. Carole was clearly invested in this Christmas being particularly special, as it was their first as a combined family, and Kurt did not want to do anything to keep that from happening for her.

 

When he arrived back at home, the smell of spices and roasting meat told him that Carole had started the initial preparations for their dinner that night. The table was arranged with an assortment of attractive snack trays – vegetables with dip, finger sandwiches, cookies – to serve as a light lunch. Kurt could hear the sound of good-natured arguing coming from the living room, so he headed in that direction.

 

Blaine and Finn were sitting in front of the television, watching some talk show on ESPN, and having a rather heated discussion about the merits and unforgivable flaws of some team or other – Kurt didn’t really know or care which. The important thing to him was that neither parent was in the room at the moment, and he hadn’t seen his boyfriend all morning.

 

Kurt slipped up behind the armchair where Blaine sat, leaning around the side of it to give him a light peck on the cheek. Blaine let out a little sound of pleased surprise, grinning up at Kurt for a moment before abruptly gripping his arm and flipping him around so that he fell in a graceless heap onto his boyfriend’s lap. Kurt tried to protest, but he was laughing too hard – and then, Blaine was silencing whatever meager objection he managed with a soft, somewhat less playful kiss.

 

Finn cleared his throat, and Kurt slowly, reluctantly, drew out of the kiss, turning his somewhat hazy eyes toward his brother in silent question. Finn was staring down at his lap rather than at the two of them, awkwardly fidgeting with his hands.

 

“Not that I care or anything, because like… it totally doesn’t bother me at all, but… well… there’s nothing I can do to cover for you two if you get caught _now_ …”

 

“Get caught doing what?”

 

The sound of his father’s voice from the living room doorway made Kurt’s stomach lurch, and he scrambled clumsily to his feet, backpedaling a couple of steps away from the chair for good measure before spinning around to face his dad with what he hoped was an innocent expression on his face.

 

Judging by the anxious, slightly sick look on his father’s face, Kurt guessed that his attempt hadn’t even come _close_ to “innocent”, and was probably something more resembling “guilty as hell”.

 

Burt Hummel closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh of resignation, his mental struggle visible on his face when he guessed, “I don’t want to know, do I?”

 

“Guys? Come get something to eat.”

 

Carole called to them from the kitchen, and Finn rose from his chair, pausing in the doorway to clap a sympathetic hand onto Burt’s shoulder, leaning in to confirm his fears quietly.

 

“No, you really, _really_ don’t.”

 

A little embarrassed, but mostly pleased and relieved that his father and step-brother both seemed to be taking the idea of his being physically affectionate with a boy relatively well, Kurt started to follow them into the kitchen, but was abruptly stopped by a firm hand circling his wrist and tugging him back. He turned toward Blaine with a single brow teasingly raised over a suggestive little smile, lips parted to say something that would hopefully be clever and sexy, even though he had no idea what, yet. But the angry flare he saw in Blaine’s dark, narrowed eyes seemed to short-circuit his usual sharp wit, silencing him.

 

“Where were you this morning?”

 

Blaine’s voice was low and calm, and the subtle note of accusation Kurt heard there sent a little shiver down his spine. Instinctively he tugged against Blaine’s grip on his wrist, but it was unyielding as steel. Blaine rose to his feet and abruptly jerked Kurt closer to him, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in malicious amusement at Kurt’s little gasp of surprise and alarm.

 

“I… I was supposed to meet up with Mercedes,” Kurt whispered, glancing self-consciously toward the kitchen doorway before turning his anxious gaze back toward his boyfriend. “We were supposed to exchange gifts…”

 

His words broke off in a muffled little whimper as Blaine’s grip on his wrist tightened to the point of being painful, and Blaine edged in even closer to Kurt, so close that Kurt could feel the heat of his body, almost but not quite touching. Blaine raised his free hand to gently brush through the hair at Kurt’s temple, in a gesture that was somehow both intimate and threatening at the same time.

 

“Are you _lying_ to me, Kurt?” His voice was hushed, far below the hearing of Kurt’s family, who had all disappeared into the kitchen, and touched with an edge of incredulous suspicion.

 

“What?” Kurt gasped, shaking his head in protest. “ _No_! Why would you even _think_ that?”

 

The hint of a smile about Blaine’s lips faded instantly, his dark eyes smoldering with anger and resentment, and he abruptly dropped Kurt’s wrist, turning toward the kitchen with a sneer of disgust. Confused and anxious, Kurt reached out to touch his arm and stop him, wanting to understand what he’d done wrong, and somehow find a way to fix it.

 

“Blaine… _wait_ …”

 

Blaine jerked his arm away roughly, his voice a warning snarl as he cast a fierce glare in Kurt’s direction.

 

“Don’t touch me.”

 

Kurt flinched as if he’d been slapped, freezing in his tracks as Blaine continued on into the kitchen to join Kurt’s family. Kurt’s heart raced in his throat, his stomach roiling with uneasy nausea as he listened to the sound of Blaine’s casual laughter with the others, as if nothing had happened – and that was just it.

 

As far as Kurt knew – nothing _had_ happened.

 

 _So… why is he so mad at me? I don’t understand…_

Kurt stood there for a moment, his mind racing with confusion, blinking back frustrated tears, struggling to steady his nerves and put on a brave face for long enough to go have lunch with his family.

 

 _I don’t get it. What did I do wrong?_


	4. Chapter 4

_I don’t understand. What did I do? Why is he so angry at me? I didn’t lie to him. I didn’t do anything…_

 

“Kurt, honey, are you feeling okay?” Carole’s voice was filled with concern.

 

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine.”

 

Kurt forced himself to offer a reassuring smile, though he couldn’t maintain eye contact for long – not when faced with the gentle, searching expression in her eyes. When she reached out across the table to touch the back of his hand, Kurt felt the familiar tingling sensation behind his eyes, and knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

 

“Actually, I… I’m not feeling so well,” he admitted at last, his voice trembling slightly as he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

 

Burt frowned, looking up at him with critical concern. “What’s the matter, kiddo?” he asked. “You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

 

“You didn’t have any breakfast,” Carole pointed out. “Maybe you just need to eat something…”

 

The thought of food at that moment made Kurt’s stomach lurch dangerously. He shook his head, swallowing back the nausea that rose in the back of his throat, unable to bring himself to meet anyone’s eyes as he weakly responded.

 

“No, I… I think I just need to lie down for a little while. I’ll be okay,” he insisted, heading out of the kitchen and down the hallway before anyone could try to stop him.

 

Kurt’s head was beginning to ache, his stomach rebelling, as he tried to make sense of Blaine’s unexpected anger. He couldn’t think of anything he might have done to bring it on. The night before, everything had seemed fine between them. He’d known that he’d have to keep some distance between himself and Finn if he was going to keep the peace between himself and his boyfriend – but he’d barely so much as spoken to Finn so far today.

 

 _And now he won’t even speak to me. He wouldn’t even look at me at the table._

 _What the hell did I_ do?

 

Kurt had barely opened the door to his room when he heard Blaine’s voice, soft with worry, but still as unfailingly polite as ever. “Excuse me for a moment. I’m just going to go down and check on him, if that’s all right.”

 

Kurt momentarily considered locking his bedroom door, but then decided against it.

 

 _No… at least he apparently wants to talk to me now. Maybe I can find out what he’s so upset about, and explain whatever this misunderstanding is. And, if I lock him out, that’s only going to piss him off even more…_

 

A little quiver of fear coiled in the pit of his stomach, and Kurt swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

 

 _There’s nothing to worry about. He’s not going to hit me… not here, not with my family upstairs. And besides, he’s not going to do that_ anyway _– not ever again._

 _He_ promised.

 

Kurt left the door closed but unlocked and made his way down the stairs. He had barely reached the bottom when the door opened again, and he heard Blaine’s swift footsteps making their way down. Kurt turned to face his boyfriend, barely able to make out his form through the sheen of tears that obscured his vision.

 

“Blaine, please, I don’t understand. What did I…”

 

“Where were you this morning?” Blaine cut him off in an accusing hiss, both hands suddenly fisted in the soft fabric of Kurt’s shirt and pushing him up against the wall at the base of the stairs. “And don’t lie to me!”

 

“I-I wasn’t lying…”

 

Kurt was unable to control the tremor in his voice as he raised his trembling hands to press just slightly against Blaine’s chest, not quite pushing him away. Suddenly, he felt as if Blaine was unsettlingly, frighteningly close, and just wanted to put a little distance between them – but Blaine didn’t take the hint, didn’t back off at all. If anything, he edged in closer, and Kurt instinctively pressed back against the wall behind him.

 

“I… I just went to meet…”

 

“I _know_ you weren’t with Mercedes!” Blaine snapped. “So don’t even _try_ …”

 

Kurt froze, staring up at Blaine in startled confusion. As he noted the frustrated tremor in Blaine’s voice, and the furious resentment burning in his dark eyes, the uneasy sensation in the pit of Kurt’s stomach intensified, and an unpleasant suspicion began to build in his mind.

 

“How… how could you _know_ that?”

 

“She called yesterday, while you were packing and I was waiting for you to be ready. You were in the bathroom, and I answered your phone,” Blaine explained in an impatient, dismissive tone. “She told me she and her family were going out of town for the next few days; I just forgot to give you the message.”

 

Kurt shook his head, frowning as his suspicions deepened. “I called her when I got to her house and she wasn’t home. She… she said she left me a voicemail…” A disturbing thought occurred to him, and his eyes widened with dismay. “Blaine – have you been _checking_ my _voicemail_?”

 

“ _Damn it_ , Kurt!” Blaine snarled, slamming his fist hard into the wall inches from Kurt’s head. “Do _not_ try to make this about me!”

 

Kurt flinched violently at the sudden threatening gesture, raising a shaking hand to shield his face from the blow he had expected to land. Instead of hitting him, however, Blaine just grabbed both of his arms in a bruising grip, shaking him hard and slamming him into the wall with enough force to make him cry out in pain. Blaine raised one hand threateningly, poised to deliver a backhand blow across Kurt’s face, and Kurt quickly stifled the sound, shaking his head pleadingly and holding up a trembling hand in a placating gesture.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered breathlessly. “Please, I’m sorry…”

 

Kurt could feel Blaine’s hand trembling on his arm, his fingers digging painfully into Kurt’s flesh, and his mind raced with panic.

 

 _He’s so angry… you’ve got to calm him down, got to get him to realize what he’s doing before…_

 

“I asked Carole what time you left, Kurt,” Blaine explained in a frighteningly restrained voice, overly patient as if he were speaking to a child. “You were gone way too long this morning to have just gone to Mercedes’ house, realized she wasn’t there, and come home. So I’m going to ask you again, and if you lie to me, you will regret it, Kurt. _Where. Were. You_?”

 

“I j-just went for a drive,” Kurt insisted, his voice hushed and subdued, his eyes fearfully downcast. “I just… missed it here, you know? So… so I just drove around for a while. You were asleep, I didn’t think you’d care… please, I’m sorry, Blaine, I just… didn’t think it mattered…”

 

Blaine nodded thoughtfully, as if considering Kurt’s explanation, before lowering his free hand to grasp Kurt’s other arm, tightening his grip on both and pushing in closer until Kurt was overwhelmed with the claustrophobic feeling of being totally trapped, unable to escape. Blaine’s voice was low and trembling with barely controlled anger as he countered softly, his dark eyes glittering with unshed tears.

 

“Is that why Finn was gone this morning, too, Kurt? Is that why when I woke up, he wasn’t home, and neither of your parents seemed to know where he’d gone? He showed up about ten minutes before you did, you know. So do you want to explain that to me?”

 

Kurt felt a cold feeling of dread tightening in his chest with Blaine’s words, his heart sinking with despair.

 

 _Finn’s timing couldn’t have been any worse. He’s_ never _going to believe me now…_

 

“I don’t have any idea where he was,” Kurt insisted, shaking his head, tears falling from his eyes to streak his face as he slid his arms downward in Blaine’s grasp, trying to get enough freedom of movement to touch his boyfriend, to somehow reassure him. He could see the hurt and insecurity written all over Blaine’s face, knew what it felt like to be so vulnerable, to want someone so badly…

 

 _But I really didn’t do anything. There’s nothing between Finn and me. I have to make him see that, somehow… I have to make him understand..._

 

“Blaine, please… I don’t know what he was doing, I swear I wasn’t with him. _Please_ … please, can’t you just _trust me_?”

 

“Trust you?” Blaine sneered, meeting Kurt’s eyes with a cold, bitter smile. “ _Trust_ you?” He leaned in close to Kurt’s ear, pausing for dramatic effect before whispering cruelly, “If you weren’t such a sneaky, lying little _slut_ … then maybe I could.”

 

Kurt flinched at the harsh words, his tears increasing, his mouth trembling with the effort to hold back the sobs that rose in his throat. He wanted to defend himself, wanted to argue that he’d never been with anyone else, never willingly kissed anyone else, never so much as _touched_ any other boy besides Blaine; but Blaine would only say he was lying again, and get angrier, and hurt him worse than he had already, and if this scene got any louder, if his family heard and came down here, and saw what was happening…

 

Kurt’s face flushed with the anticipation of a shame that he was determined not to let himself experience. He swallowed back the sobs that choked him, struggling to regain his composure.

 

“I-I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please, Blaine… I don’t want anyone but you, you know that. Please… please calm down… please don’t…”

 

Blaine’s eyes narrowed with fury, and he shoved Kurt hard against the wall, then grabbed him by the hair, smiling coldly when Kurt bit back a yelp of pain and fear. His words were taut and measured, yet dangerously balanced on the edge of sheer rage, as he retorted softly, “I am _perfectly calm_ , Kurt. Quit telling me to…”

 

His words broke off abruptly at the sound of a soft knock on the door at the top of the stairs. Kurt’s heart raced in his throat, his palms damp as his entire body broke out in a cold sweat. He looked up at Blaine with wide eyes, biting his lower lip, unsure of what to do. He knew that if anyone came down here and saw him right now, it wouldn’t matter that Blaine hadn’t struck a single blow, hadn’t left a visible mark on him. His hair was damp and disheveled, his face streaked with tears, and he couldn’t stop shaking.

 

All anyone would have to do was take one look at his face to know that something was very wrong here.

 

“You said you were coming down here to lie down,” Blaine reminded him coldly. “So go lie down. I’m done, anyway. It’s not like you’re going to tell me the truth. I don’t even wanna _look_ at you right now.”

 

Kurt had expected to feel relieved when Blaine finally backed off and let him go, but all he felt was a cold, empty feeling of rejection. He wrapped his arms around his torso, trying to control the sick, shaky feeling in his stomach as he made his way on leaden legs to his bed and fell down onto it, turning his back to the door. He didn’t bother to try to stop the silent tears that streamed down his face. When Blaine turned off the light at the bottom of the stairs before making his way up, Kurt closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the door opening, and Blaine’s and Finn’s quiet voices, muffled slightly as they moved away from the door.

 

“Is he okay, dude?”

 

“Yeah… yeah, he’s fine. He’s just not feeling well right now.”

 

“He’s gonna miss the presents…”

 

“Nah, let’s just wait a little bit, let him rest. He’ll feel better in a little while.”

 

“Okay… if you’re sure.”

 

Kurt was desperately, painfully confused.

 

He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed that Finn had so easily accepted Blaine’s reassurances. He was glad that Blaine was walking away, was leaving him alone without really hurting him – and yet, he wanted nothing more than for Blaine to hold him close and soothe his tears and tell him that he was forgiven and that everything was going to be okay.

 

 _He’s just so afraid of losing me, that’s all – but I try so hard to make him see that he doesn’t have to be… I love him so much, but I keep screwing up, and he keeps getting mad, and…_

 _I just have to try harder. I just have to be better. If I can just be better, for him, then this won’t happen anymore…_

 _Come on, Kurt, get it together. Get it together, and figure out how to make this right, before you ruin Christmas for everyone._


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt lay alone on his bed for a long time, listening to the muffled sounds of footsteps and conversation from upstairs. He heard the sound of distant laughter, and it only made his heart ache worse. He turned his face into his pillow to stifle the quiet sob that escaped his lips and absorb the hot tears that slipped from his eyes. It was bitterly ironic, he realized with a mingled mess of confusion, frustration and sorrow that was utterly overwhelming.

 

It was _Christmas,_ and he was here in the house where he’d grown up, with his family and boyfriend just upstairs – and Kurt had never felt so alone.

 

He knew that at the very least, his father was probably worried about him – or maybe irritated and wondering why he would choose to put such a damper on the family holiday celebration over a little thing like an upset stomach. He knew that he should just suck it up and go upstairs, fake a smile for long enough to convince his family that he was all right, and try not to ruin Christmas for everyone.

 

But when Kurt thought of the cold, bitter fury in Blaine’s dark eyes, the smoldering resentment and accusation in his biting words – Kurt couldn’t bring himself to leave his bed.

 

 _I don’t even_ want _Finn anymore,_ Kurt thought with despair. _I want to have a relationship with him, yeah – as a_ brother, _because we’re a family now – but_ Blaine _is the only one I want – and he just can’t see it. Why can’t he just_ trust _me?_

A faint creaking sound came from the top of the stairs, and Kurt tensed immediately, recognizing the sound of his bedroom door opening. He momentarily cursed his lack of foresight in leaving it unlocked – not that he could have done so without making it obvious that he was actively _trying_ to keep them all out, and tipping them off to the fact that he was hiding in the basement because of something worse than a little stomach bug.

 

Slow footsteps on the stairs forced Kurt to focus, and he drew in a deep, shaky breath, struggling to steady his nerves and get it together enough to fool his dad, or Finn, or whoever it was that was coming down to check on him. He quickly wiped away the tears that filled his eyes, pasting on a smile as he turned over onto his back and rose up on his elbows to face his uninvited visitor.

 

The last person Kurt expected to see was Blaine, slowly making his way across the room, his head bowed and his hands folded behind his back.

 

 _When he left here a little while ago, he was acting as if he never wanted to speak to me again…_

 

Kurt’s stomach did an uneasy little flip, and his mouth was suddenly dry. He swallowed hard, struggling to keep his rising panic at bay.

 

 _Why’s he back down here now? What’s he going to do…?_

 

“How are you feeling?” Blaine asked quietly, glancing up from lowered eyes to search Kurt’s face, his expression inscrutable. “Any better?”

 

“Yes, actually.” Kurt couldn’t quite keep the sharp, sarcastic note from his voice, his mouth twisted into a withering, unhappy smirk. “My fake stomach ache is much better, thank you.”

 

The words were barely out of Kurt’s mouth before he regretted them, bracing himself for whatever retaliation Blaine might deliver for his smart aleck remark. But Blaine actually winced a little at Kurt’s words, his gaze faltering down to the bed. Kurt frowned slightly, watching in bewilderment as Blaine reached the bed and knelt beside it, his hands folded on the bedspread as he looked up to meet Kurt’s eyes again, but only for a moment.

 

Kurt was stunned, and utterly confused.

 

He wasn’t sure he’d _ever_ seen Blaine seem so nervous and uncertain.

 

“So… Finn talked to me a few minutes ago,” Blaine began, his voice carefully calm and even, his eyes locked onto his folded hands. “Probably not by choice,” he acknowledged with a rueful little shrug. “Probably just because you weren’t up there to talk to…”

 

Kurt opened his mouth to protest Blaine’s lingering suspicions, but Blaine went on before he could speak.

 

“I mean… I’m sure he’d rather have talked to… to his _brother_ than… some guy he barely knows, but… anyway… he told me that… this morning, Rachel called him. She said there was some kind of New Directions emergency that only the two of them could handle, and asked him to meet her, and… he did. Turns out there wasn’t anything important; she just wanted to try to apologize to him again, but… but the _point_ is…”

 

Kurt went very still, listening and waiting for Blaine to finish, though he already _knew_ what the point was.

 

He just couldn’t believe that Blaine was actually going to admit it.

 

“The… the point is…” Blaine’s voice caught over the words, and he drew in a soft, shaky breath that drew Kurt’s attention to his face. Kurt was stunned to see tears shining in Blaine’s eyes as he struggled to finish. “… that… that he wasn’t with _you_.”

 

Kurt felt a sudden rush of mingled emotions, anger and relief and vindication all so hopelessly entangled that one was indistinguishable from another. His eyes welled with fresh tears as he replied in a hoarse, reproachful voice edged with resentment.

 

“I _told_ you…”

 

“I know.” Blaine lowered his head to rest against the edge of the mattress, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, as his hands reached across the bed as one to enfold Kurt’s hand between them, clinging to it urgently, pleadingly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head against the mattress. “I’m so sorry, Kurt…”

 

The sorrow and regret in Blaine’s voice, the desperation in his touch, tore at Kurt’s defenses, tainting his deserved anger with a sympathy and understanding that he didn’t want to feel. He swallowed hard, his hand tense and unyielding between Blaine’s, but not quite pulling away. He couldn’t bring himself to speak – not that he had any clue what he would have said, anyway.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Blaine repeated, raising his tear-streaked face, his dark eyes liquid with remorse, his lower lip trembling as he went on, shaking his head helplessly. “I… I’m sorry I freaked out like that, Kurt. I know he’s your brother, and your friend, and… and you _should_ have the right to be close to him without me acting like a complete _asshole_ and… and… what I did…”

 

He drew in a shuddering breath, drawing Kurt’s hand to his lips and holding it against his cheek in a gesture of intimate supplication. Kurt allowed it, staring at his boyfriend with a single eyebrow raised.

 

 _God… people say_ I’m _overdramatic…_

 

But in spite of himself, he felt his resolve faltering with his anger, at the intensely romantic nature of the gesture.

 

“Kurt, I love you so much,” Blaine choked out, pressing a trembling kiss against Kurt’s palm before resting his cheek against it again. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry I hurt you, baby… I just… I was just so _scared_ … I’m so scared of losing you, Kurt…”

 

Blaine looked up, tears streaming from his eyes, his expression stricken and terrified, his voice a hushed, fearful whisper.

 

“And… and I _deserve_ to lose you. I know I do. I… I screwed things up so bad, Kurt. I’m sorry. I… I’m _so sorry_ …”

 

Blaine broke down completely then, his shoulders shaking, words failing him as his tears overwhelmed him. He clung to Kurt’s hand, his head pressed against the mattress, murmuring tearful, barely intelligible words that were muffled against the bedspread, but Kurt finally made them out, repeated over and over with quietly frantic desperation.

 

“ _Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me_ …”

 

“Blaine,” Kurt whispered at last, sitting up in the bed and reaching out his free hand to gently stroke through the soft curls at the base of Blaine’s neck. “Blaine… it’s all right. It’s all right. I know you didn’t mean it. It’s all right…”

 

Blaine didn’t respond at first, though his tears gradually began to subside under the gentle power of Kurt’s soft reassurances. Finally, he raised his head, his dark eyes filled with adoring gratitude as he scrambled onto the bed to bury his face against Kurt’s shoulder, soaking his shirt with his tears.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing soft, intent kisses against Kurt’s throat. “I’m so sorry… so, so sorry…”

 

Kurt could tell that Blaine meant it – that this time, he’d scared himself with the intensity of his own violent anger, and being faced with the undeniable evidence of how wrong he’d been had clearly served to prove to him that he had to _stop_. Kurt didn’t say anything more – because no further words were necessary at that point. He just held his boyfriend close, running a soothing hand up and down his back and offering the forgiveness Blaine needed with nothing more than a silent, gentle touch.

 

**************************************

 

Thirty minutes later, they were back upstairs with Kurt’s family, opening presents.

 

Blaine’s gifts from Kurt’s family were surprisingly well chosen – well, surprisingly to Blaine, anyway. They were so perfectly in line with his interests and tastes because they had been chosen by Kurt over the phone while Carole did her Christmas shopping.

 

Kurt’s exultation over the beautiful sweater that Carole had bought him was made bittersweet by his knowledge that it would not get nearly the use it would have before he’d transferred to Dalton. The uniform policy there was beginning to seriously cramp his style.

 

But, at least he was _safe_ , and he supposed he could trade his inimitable fashion sense for that, for the time being.

 

Finn seemed quite eager for Kurt to open his gift, so Kurt obliged with mingled curiosity and apprehension – pleased and surprised to find a very nice hardcover book entitled _Unforgettable: A History of Broadway in Pictures._

“Finn, this is _beautiful_ ,” Kurt gasped as he opened the book and slowly leafed through the pages, eyes wide with delight.

 

“Awesome,” Finn exulted, giving himself a congratulatory fist pump. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like it, but it seemed like something you’d be into, and I _sure_ wasn’t going to try buying you _clothes_ …”

 

Kurt didn’t voice the agreeing thought that crossed his mind – that even if he was naked and the house was on fire, and all of his other clothes had somehow already burned up, he was unlikely to ever wear anything of Finn’s choosing in public. Instead, he gave his brother a warm, affectionate smile, his voice a little hoarse with emotion.

 

“It’s _perfect_ ,” he stated with utter sincerity. “Thank you.”

 

Finn’s face flushed with self-conscious pride, a beaming smile on his face as he reached out a hand to gently squeeze Kurt’s shoulder, his tone unusually shy as he replied, “Merry Christmas.”

 

A warm feeling of contentment seemed to spread through Kurt from the point of contact, his chest tight and his eyes burning with unshed tears – the _good_ kind – as he thought of how grateful he was for this newly formed little family of theirs. He hadn’t even realized they were missing anything, and he knew in his heart that he and his dad would have been just fine together if Finn and Carole hadn’t ever come along; but he was so grateful that they had.

 

They stayed up late that night, talking and laughing and watching old movies, Kurt happily wedged between Blaine and Finn on the sofa until he felt himself beginning to doze off. They all headed off to their respective rooms for the night, and Kurt lay down in his bed, feeling content and at peace. The problems of that afternoon felt far away, almost as if he’d dreamed them.

 

Kurt had almost drifted off when he realized that he was thirsty, and headed back upstairs for a drink of water. He didn’t bother to turn on the light, finding the small nightlight on the counter sufficient, as he took a glass from the dish drainer and turned on the tap. He drank his fill, and then placed the empty glass in the sink before turning back toward the stairs.

 

His heart leapt up into his throat, and he drew in a sharp, startled gasp at the sight of Blaine, standing very close behind him. His hand flew to his throat, and he left out a nervous, shaky little laugh.

 

“Blaine,” he whispered breathlessly. “You scared me…” He closed the distance between them, a teasing smile on his lips as he reached out to put his hands on his boyfriend’s waist. “I know. You forgot your good night kiss…”

 

Kurt’s stomach lurched with apprehension as Blaine jerked away from his touch, and only then did he notice the blazing fury in Blaine’s eyes, so dark they were nearly black, his jaw clenched with accusing anger. Kurt’s heart sank with abrupt understanding, and he shook his head, taking a step backward.

 

“Blaine… _wait_ …”

 

“Shut up,” Blaine snarled, grabbing Kurt’s arm and jerking him close again, not leaving him room evade the blow as he struck him hard across the face. “Just _shut up_ , you lying little _whore_!”


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt reeled backward under the force of the unexpected blow, his hand flying up to cover his burning cheek. He blinked back the stinging moisture that rose to his eyes from the pain – both physical and otherwise – of the sudden attack, looking up at Blaine in betrayed, bewildered outrage.

 

“Wh-what…” he stammered out, breathless and indignant. “What was _that_ for…?”

 

“Shut up!” Blaine snarled, swiftly closing the distance between them and shoving Kurt’s shoulders hard, knocking him off balance so that he stumbled backward against the kitchen counter. “Just shut up, Kurt! God, I can’t believe I _trusted_ you!”

 

“Blaine, just calm down for a minute and tell me what I did!” Kurt demanded, his voice rising slightly with frustration and alarm as he straightened, one hand reaching back to touch the spot where his hip had connected with the counter. He winced at the dull ache he felt under his fingertips; there was definitely going to be a bruise there later.

 

“You _know_ what you did!” Blaine snapped back, closing in again. “After all your talk about how you guys are a family now – how you don’t see him as anything but a brother – and then you let him touch you like that. And _right_ in _front_ of me! Are you _trying_ to humiliate me? The both of you? Are you just _trying_ to make a fool out of me in front of your whole family?”

 

Kurt found himself instinctively backing up against the counter again as Blaine advanced, his brow breaking out in a cold sweat, his heart racing at the trapped, helpless sensation of being so cornered. He held up a hand to halt Blaine’s advance, but Blaine just caught his wrist roughly, jerking him off balance, and causing his stomach to lurch with fear. His mouth was dry as he shook his head slowly, closing his eyes and turning his face away from the oppressive nearness of Blaine’s fierce, intense glare.

 

“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking over the word. “Blaine, please… I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

 

Kurt flinched as Blaine’s hands grasped his arms roughly, yanking him close and shaking him hard. Kurt drew in a sharp, shallow breath, bracing himself for worse as Blaine leaned in close, his voice low and trembling with barely restrained fury.

 

“You’re such a _lying… little… whore_ ,” he sneered, bitter contempt in the words as he spit them out. “You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about. How could you let him touch you like that, Kurt? How could you do that to me, right in front of me? How could you… _insult_ me like that?”

 

Kurt had never been so confused. Nothing Blaine was saying made any sense. He knew that it had to be about Finn, because these days, when he and Blaine fought, it _always_ seemed to be about a boy – whatever boy happened to have looked at, spoken to, or otherwise acknowledged the existence of Kurt – and Finn was the only other boy who’d done any of those things in the past couple of days. What he _didn’t_ know was how Blaine had gone from heartfelt, sobbing apology a few hours earlier, to another vicious attack, after nothing more than a few quiet, pleasant hours spent in the presence of his entire family.

 

“Blaine… Blaine, please…” Kurt whispered, shaking his head, pressing his hands against Blaine’s chest in an attempt to put a bit of space between them – an attempt that proved futile as Blaine’s hands clenched in the soft fabric of Kurt’s pajamas, yanking him closer. “Please, try to be reasonable about this!” Kurt pleaded, an edge of frustration creeping into his voice despite his best efforts to stay calm. “I’m not _stupid_ , Blaine. If I _was_ going to do anything with Finn, do you think I’d do it in front of our _parents_? With you sitting right there? Now, seriously, that’s just _insulting_ …”

 

Blaine’s eyes narrowed, and a slow, cold smile crept over his face – and Kurt’s heart sank with the realization, too late, of the dreadful mistake he’d just made.

 

“You’ve really planned this out, haven’t you, Kurt?” Blaine observed nastily, reaching up one hand to grip a handful of Kurt’s hair, shaking him until he bit back a whimper of pain. “Really given a lot of thought to how best to _whore around behind my back_! _Haven’t_ you?”

 

“Blaine, please,” Kurt pleaded softly. But his face was already streaked with defeated tears, knowing too well that he wasn’t going to be able to talk Blaine down – at least, not until the damage was already done. His words came out rapid and shaking and frantic as he tried desperately to avert the inevitable. “Please, calm down… y-you’re going to wake up my parents. Just… please just… let’s just wait until morning, when we’ve both had a good night’s rest, and… and talk about this… I swear I didn’t do anything, _he_ didn’t do anything, I’d never let him touch me, Blaine, please, I don’t let _anybody_ touch me but you, _please_ …”

 

“Shut up!” Blaine ordered, freeing Kurt’s hair to deliver a vicious slap across Kurt’s face. “Just stop _lying_ to me, Kurt! I’m _sick_ of it!” Kurt flinched, a choked whimper of pain escaping his lips as a second blow landed hard across his cheek. “I am _not_ going to put up with having a stupid, cheating, lying little whore for a boyfriend…”

 

“Blaine, please… please stop…” Kurt cried, broken words falling from his lips, his shoulders shaking with sobs. “ _Please_ …”

 

“Stupid slut,” Blaine sneered, his lower lip curled in disgust.

 

Abruptly, he released Kurt with a violent shove that slammed the base of his spine against the counter. Kurt gasped as searing pain shot through his body, and he collapsed to the floor, eyes wide with agony and struggling for breath that wouldn’t seem to come. Blaine stood over him, glaring down at him, impassive and accusing. Kurt flinched, shaking his head and holding up a pleading, halting hand. Unmoved, Blaine drew back his foot – still clad in the same casual loafer he’d been wearing all day – and aimed for Kurt’s unprotected ribcage.

 

The blow never landed.

 

“What the _hell_?”

 

Finn’s outraged voice reached Kurt’s ears before he saw him; and an instant later, Blaine seemed to be flying backward of his own accord, stumbling until he hit the counter opposite Kurt. Then, Finn was between them, glaring at Blaine in outrage for a moment before his gaze turned toward Kurt, and that outrage faded into concern.

 

“Kurt? Dude, you okay?”

 

Kurt couldn’t help his instinctive flinch as Finn crouched in front of him, reaching out an anxious hand toward his face. He immediately tried to correct his own reaction, reminding himself that the danger was past. Finn only wanted to help him, to make sure that he was okay. He tried to steady his breathing, tried to calm the panicked racing of his heart.

  
 _It’s just Finn… just Finn, and he’s not gonna hurt me… wouldn’t ever..._

  
But the damage was already done.

 

Finn’s eyes widened in stunned dismay at Kurt’s fearful reaction – then narrowed in fury as he began to rise to his feet, turning toward Blaine. But before he could stand, Blaine was already closing the distance between them, launching his much smaller frame toward Finn, his face twisted in rage.

 

“Keep your hands off my boyfriend, you sick freak!” he demanded, drawing back his fist and letting it fly.

 

Finn caught it easily, using the leverage afforded him by his grip to pull himself to his feet before shoving Blaine backward into the counter behind him.

 

“ _Seriously_?” He stared at Blaine, incredulous. “ _Me_?” he sputtered, shaking his head. “I’m not the one who’s shoving him around and hitting him in the face! _You_ keep your hands off my _brother_ , you psycho!”

 

Blaine opened his mouth as if to protest, but couldn’t seem to find the words; and he didn’t make any move to attack Finn again, so Finn turned his attention back toward Kurt – who was far better prepared to accept it this time. When Finn reached a steady hand toward him, Kurt took it, wincing at the pain in his abused back as he pulled himself to his feet.

 

“You okay?” Finn asked again, his voice soft and private. “Where are you hurt?”

 

“I’m okay,” Kurt whispered, shaking his head dismissively, unable to meet Finn’s eyes. “I’m fine…”

 

“Look, it’s no big deal,” Blaine insisted, rolling his eyes and raising a hand in an attempt at a dismissive wave – but Kurt could hear the faint tremor that belied his words, could see the guilt in his dark eyes that made it perfectly clear – he knew there was no valid explanation he could offer for what Finn had seen. “We were just having a little fight. It’s nobody’s business but ours. I know what it looked like, but…”

 

“What it looked like was you smacking my little brother around,” Finn interrupted sharply, fixing a warning glare on the smaller boy. “And if that’s what I walked in on, then it _is_ my business.”

 

Although it hardly seemed relevant at the moment, Kurt’s mind immediately went to the automatic protest he made whenever Finn made that particular claim. His lips parted to argue that he wasn’t technically Finn’s little brother, since he was two months older – but at the moment, he decided, if Finn wanted to play the role of his protector, he had no objections to that.

 

“It’s not like that,” Blaine insisted, shaking his head, holding his hands up in a placating gesture as Finn took a couple of menacing steps in his direction. “We were just having a little argument. Come on, Kurt, tell him…”

 

Kurt flinched instinctively at the words, and the subtly demanding note that underlay them. He glanced up at Blaine – and then quickly averted his gaze, suppressing a shudder at the cold, warning look he saw in his boyfriend’s eyes. His lips parted to offer some kind of response, but he couldn’t seem to find words. His mouth felt dry, and he swallowed hard, his hands clenched tightly around the edge of the counter behind him as he shook his head slowly, helplessly.

 

Apparently, his reaction was answer enough for Finn.

 

He swore softly under his breath, his fists clenched at his sides as he advanced on Blaine again.

 

“Come _on_! You can’t be _serious_!” Blaine objected, edging away from Finn along the counter. “Kurt! Come on, are you gonna let him do this? So we had a stupid little fight – I _love_ you, don’t you get that? _Kurt_!”

 

Kurt cringed, closing his eyes against the tears that stung his eyes. “Please,” he whispered. “I can’t… I can’t…”

 

“Just _shut up_!” Finn snarled – and it took Kurt a moment to realize that his brother wasn’t talking to _him_. He looked up to see that Finn had closed the distance between himself and Blaine and was clutching the smaller boy’s collar in both hands, shaking him slightly as he held him pinned between the counter and Finn’s own body. “You’re _still_ trying to scare him into doing what you want!” Finn incredulously observed, and Kurt was vaguely surprised at his perception. “Just stop it!”

 

“I’m not doing anything!” Blaine sputtered, indignant. “I’m just talking to him! He’s _my_ boyfriend, whether you like it or not, and kicking the shit out of me isn’t going to change that! Why don’t you just leave us alone and mind your own business?”

 

“I don’t _want_ him to be _my_ boyfriend, you sick freak.” The clear disgust in Finn’s voice made Kurt’s face flush with shame, and he instinctively pressed back against the counter, wishing that he could disappear – until Finn spoke again, and his meaning became clear. “He’s _family_. I’m not going to kick the shit out of you because I want him for myself. I’m going to kick the shit out of you because he’s my _brother_ , and _nobody_ hurts my brother and gets away with it!”

 

“Who’s getting the shit kicked out of them?” Burt’s gruff, sleep-hoarsened voice broke into the argument, and Kurt’s stomach dropped as he looked to the kitchen doorway to see his father and Carole standing there. As he watched in horror, Burt glanced uneasily at Carole beside him and added as an afterthought, “And don’t say ‘shit’.”

 

Then, Burt’s gaze shifted to take in more than just Blaine and Finn, and he froze, his eyes going wide as they locked onto his son’s face. Instantly, Kurt was both terrified, and tremendously relieved that his father was there.

 

“Dad,” he whispered tearfully.

 

“ _Kurt_!”

 

Burt rushed to his son’s side, Carole following closely, hovering as her husband reached out to gently take Kurt’s shoulders in his hands for a moment before raising one hand to barely brush against Kurt’s cheek. Kurt winced at the slight twinge of pain he felt at the touch, and realized with dismay that he must already have a visible mark there.

 

“Son, what happened? What…?” Burt’s voice broke off abruptly as he looked across the room at Finn and Blaine, and his eyes narrowed with furious realization. “Did… did _he_ …?”

 

Kurt’s face, as always, revealed far more than he wanted it to.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Burt snarled in rage as he swiftly, purposefully crossed the room toward Blaine and Finn, while Carole stepped in to take his spot, wrapping her arms around Kurt and pulling him close to her. “What the hell did you do to my _son_?”


	7. Chapter 7

“Did you _hit_ him?” In three long steps, Burt Hummel was across the kitchen and reaching out to grip Finn’s shoulder, spinning him around and pulling him away from the smaller boy he held pinned against the counter. “What the hell did you _do_?”

 

Kurt blinked, shaking his head slightly. It took him a moment to process his father’s words enough to realize that Burt’s furious accusation was aimed at _Finn_ , and not Blaine.

 

It took Finn a moment longer – of course – but then, he was sputtering in outrage, “Wait – _what_? I didn’t… it wasn’t _me_! _Blaine_ was the one who hit him!”

 

Burt took a step back, looking toward Blaine with a frown of confusion before turning his questioning gaze back toward Finn. “You mean, he… why would _Blaine_ …”

 

“Why would _I_?” Finn demanded, wounded.

 

“I don’t know.” Burt’s tone was a little defensive, and he seemed a bit taken aback by the question, glancing guiltily toward Carole before shrugging and speculating in a vaguely evasive tone, “I’m guessing Kurt and Blaine thought no one else was awake. Maybe you… walked in on something you didn’t appreciate seeing?”

 

“Yeah.” Finn’s mouth tightened into a grim line, his arms crossing over his chest as he cast a pointed look between Kurt and Blaine. “Yeah, I did, actually.”

 

Kurt turned his head away from the scene across the room, stifling a whimper against Carole’s shoulder as her embrace tightened around him, one hand rising to run soothingly through his hair. He drew a certain measure of comfort from the soft, reassuring murmur of her voice, though he couldn’t make sense of her words, not with his mind racing ahead in panic, already well aware of how much Finn was about to reveal.

 

He just knew that he couldn’t bring himself to look.

  
 _This is it. I'm about to watch my dad murder my boyfriend._

  
He felt shaky and sick at that thought, but didn’t realize how close he was to collapsing until Carole steered him backward toward one of the kitchen chairs. She pushed him gently down into it and then sat down in the one beside him, all without taking her arms from around him for a moment. She felt warm and soft and safe, and Kurt wished that he could just hide as Finn blurted out the reality that he’d been trying so hard to avoid believing.

 

“I saw Blaine hit Kurt in the face,” Finn declared. “It knocked him down. And he was going to kick him when I walked in and stopped him.”

 

“I-it wasn’t like that!” Blaine protested immediately. “He didn’t see what happened, he wasn’t even in the _room_ for most of it! He’s just jumping to conclusions…”

 

“He says he _saw_ you hit him.” Burt’s voice was low and trembling with rage, dangerous in a way that Kurt had rarely heard it before. “Now why would he make something like that up?”

 

“A second ago you were convinced that _he_ was the one who would hurt Kurt!” Blaine pointed out, but his tone was defensive, and higher than usual. “Now you trust him completely?”

 

“I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer than you,” Burt declared. He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, Kurt’s stomach dropped. “Kurt? What happened?”

 

“Yeah, tell him, babe,” Blaine urged him in a voice that was deceptively gentle, leading. “Tell him it didn’t happen like Finn said.”

 

Kurt couldn’t help the flinch that went through him at Blaine’s subtly demanding words, and he turned his face further away from both his boyfriend and his father, stubbornly refusing to raise it from Carole’s shoulder, even as she tried to pull back enough to make him.

 

 _I can’t do it… can’t tell him what really happened, but… but I can’t make him think that Finn’s a liar, either, because he’s not, and the last thing this family needs is more tension between me and Dad and Finn, and if I tell him the truth Blaine will never forgive me, but…_

 _I can’t… I just can’t…_

“Come on, Kurt. Tell him what happened.” Finn’s voice was calm but firm, unusually gentle.

 

“Yeah, come on, Kurt. Tell him.” Blaine echoed the other boy’s words, but there was a subtle edge to them that sent a shiver down Kurt’s spine.

 

“Both of you, just shut up!” Burt snapped, his voice trembling with frustration – and Kurt braced himself as he heard the sound of his father’s voice drawing nearer to him as he spoke. A moment later, he felt the warmth of a very familiar pair of hands on his shoulders, gently but insistently pushing him back away from Carole and holding him up, despite his efforts to lower his head again.

 

 _“Kurt.”_ His voice was soft but stern, and Kurt opened his eyes, but couldn’t bring himself to meet his father’s intent, searching gaze. “Come on, son. Tell me what happened.”

 

Kurt just shook his head, blinking rapidly against the fresh tears that filled his eyes, unable to raise them above the level of his father’s chest.

 

“Look at me, Kurt,” Burt insisted. “Come on… look at me.”

 

As he spoke, he reached out a cautious, gentle hand to rest beneath Kurt’s chin, tilting it upward. Kurt swallowed back a sob, closing his eyes for a moment before drawing in a shuddering, tearful breath and forcing himself to meet his father’s eyes.

 

“Did he hit you, Kurt? Did Blaine hit you?”

 

Kurt’s lips parted to respond, to deny it, though he couldn’t – and neither could he confirm it. He felt trapped, unable to choose an option that wouldn’t hurt and infuriate _someone_ that he loved more than his own life. His heart raced, tears streaking his face, unable to tear his eyes away from his father’s questioning gaze now that he’d met it, and unable to bring himself to speak.

 

He knew he didn’t have to.

 

As always, the truth was plain on his face, to anyone who knew him at all – and his father knew him better than anyone.

 

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, eyes blazing with protective rage as he turned away from his son and strode purposefully across the room, fists clenched at his sides as he approached Blaine, who was scrambling along the edge of the counter away from him, eyes wide and panicked.

 

“Come on, it’s not that big a deal! So we had a fight that happened to get a little physical. We’re both guys! He’s bigger than I am!” Blaine babbled out a terrible explanation that only made things worse, in a voice that trembled with fear. “It’s not like I’m beating up on a _girl_ or something! He can hit back any time he wants!”

 

“What, so it’s okay for you to hit him because he’s your boyfriend, not your girlfriend?” Finn frowned, his tone a combination of indignation and confusion. “That’s homophobic! Or… sexist. Or something. Is it _possible_ for a gay dude to be homophobic?”

 

“Finn.” Carole’s soft voice from across the room stopped him. “Stop trying to help.”

 

Nothing that Blaine or Finn or Carole had said seemed inclined to stop Burt from his chosen course of action. He continued advancing on Blaine, his face red with anger, his clenched fists trembling – and Kurt’s stomach lurched as he thought of the warnings his father had received from his doctor about allowing his blood pressure to get too high. It was enough to pull Kurt from his own fear and indecision, and at last he withdrew from Carole’s arms, crossing the room to place a hand on his father’s shoulder just before he reached Blaine, crying out in desperate protest.

 

“Dad, _don’t_!”

 

Burt spun around to face him, incredulous and outraged. “He hits you, and you’re trying to _protect_ him?”

 

“No.” Kurt met his father’s gaze, earnest and pleading. “I’m trying to protect _you_.”

 

Burt froze for a moment, his clenched fist lowering slowly back down to his side. He shook his head slowly, his gaze shifting back and forth between his son, and the threat to his well-being that had been _willingly invited_ into their home, that he had _trusted_ with Kurt’s safety, with his _heart…_

He shook his head, torn.

 

“He’s right,” Blaine spoke up, desperately clinging to the way out Kurt had just provided. “You _can’t_ hit me! You could go to _jail_ if you hit me! You’re not allowed, because that would be child abuse! I’m a minor!”

 

“Yeah,” Finn agreed, stepping forward with a slow, thoughtful nod, his head lowered slightly. Then he looked up to meet Blaine’s eyes, a slight smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “So am I.”

 

And without hesitation, he drew back his fist and struck Blaine, hard, across the face, sending him staggering back a few steps – and conveniently into the doorway that led out of the kitchen and into the front hall. Blaine regained his balance and took off running as Finn hissed and shook his fist.

 

“ _Shit_!” he muttered. “Why do people in the movies always punch people in the mouth? That freakin’ _hurts_!”

 

“Finn!” Carole protested, moving forward to check her son’s injury. “Are you all right?”

 

Burt took a single step toward the doorway – but then stopped at the sound of the front door opening, and then slamming shut again. He hesitated, momentarily torn, before taking back that single step and moving back toward his son. He placed one hand cautiously, tenderly against Kurt’s cheek, tilting his head up to face him.

 

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, searching Kurt’s face for the truth.

 

Kurt nodded slowly, blinking back tears, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Burt abruptly threw his arms around his son, drawing him into a fierce hug. Kurt froze for a moment, startled by the uncommon display of emotion, before melting into the embrace, burying his face against his dad’s chest as a choked sob rose up in his throat.

 

“Where’s he think he’s going, anyway?” Finn’s voice reached his ears, muffled slightly by Burt’s protective presence, wrapped around Kurt and sheltering him from anything outside the two of them. “It’s not like he’s even got a _car_ here…”

 

Kurt looked up, sniffling a little as he considered that question. “Maybe he’ll… c-catch a cab back to Westerville or something."

  
 _He's never going to forgive me. After this, we're over. We_ have _to be._

  
Kurt’s heart clenched painfully at that thought – and then his face flushed with shame at his own reaction.

 

 _Shouldn’t you be_ glad _he’s gone? After what he’s done? Shouldn’t_ you _be the one breaking up with him, instead of just putting up with it and putting up with it for so long…?_

 

“I don’t care _where_ he goes,” Burt declared, drawing back a little but not taking his arms from around his son enough to look down at him. “As long as it’s nowhere near _you_.”

 

Kurt turned his troubled gaze toward the empty kitchen doorway, and the hall beyond it that led to the front door. He knew that he should share his father’s sentiment, and be glad that Blaine wasn’t around to do any more damage. He knew that he should simply shut the other boy out of his life, and forget him.

 

He also knew that he _couldn’t._

Whether or not he should, Kurt couldn’t help loving Blaine – couldn’t help worrying about where he was going, and whether or not he was going to be all right, and how things would be between them when he saw Blaine again. Although he knew he shouldn’t feel that way, he couldn’t help the desperate, anxious thought that filled his mind.

  
 _Oh, Blaine, I'm so sorry. Please come back._


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine was gone, but once again, Kurt found himself on the receiving end of a severe third degree from someone he loved, someone who was hurt and disappointed and upset with him for lying to them. Only this time, Kurt actually _had_ lied.

 

And this time, he wasn’t scared.

 

In fact, Kurt couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so safe.

 

No matter how angry his father was – and rightfully so – Kurt knew that he would never do anything to hurt him. The anger in Burt Hummel’s eyes was tempered with unmistakable love – was a _result_ of that love, no less – and Kurt knew that no mistake on his part, no matter how stupid and damaging, could change that.

 

He was sitting on the sofa next to his father, who had one strong, protective arm wrapped around his shoulders and was facing him with a worried, searching gaze. Kurt found himself shifting closer into the embrace, even as he had to look away from the intensity of emotion in his father’s eyes.

 

“Kurt… how long has this been going on?”

 

Kurt swallowed hard, thinking back to the first time, and felt a tremor go through him at the vivid memory. He could still feel the pain and shock, the wounded betrayal that had filled him as the back of Blaine’s hand had connected with his face, sending him staggering back against the wall of his dorm room.

 

“Almost… almost a month, I guess. I… I made a stupid little joke… just teasing him, really… in front of his friends, and it didn’t mean anything, but… he got so _angry_. He said it was… i-insulting, and… and humiliating. He waited until we got back to my room, and then he… he slapped me.”

 

Kurt felt his father’s arm tighten slightly around him, and Burt opened his mouth as if to speak, his eyes dark and blazing with barely restrained fury at what he was hearing. After a moment, however, he closed his mouth again, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding back whatever he’d apparently thought better of saying. He just sat there, waiting for Kurt to go on – so he did. But the words that rose to his lips were halting, choked with the hurt, bewildered emotion of the moment he was remembering.

 

“He… he cried, afterward. He said he couldn’t believe he’d done it, and that he was so sorry, but… but I just couldn’t possibly understand the _pressure_ he was under. To… to succeed. To be the best at everything. To please his parents and make it worth their effort and money to send him to Dalton. And, um… he said… the teasing… it brought back the _bullying_ he’d been through at his old school, and…”

 

Kurt’s voice broke off over the words, as the guilt he’d felt in that moment washed over him again, and he lowered his face against his father’s arm, drawing in a deep, shaky breath and struggling to hold back the tears that burned his eyes.

 

“So… let me get this straight.” Burt Hummel’s voice was dangerously soft, though Kurt knew that the quiet note of rage he heard there was not directed at him. “He hits you in the face… and then makes you feel like _you’re_ the one bullying _him_? _You_? Bullying _anyone_?”

 

Kurt’s thoughts went back to a dozen different hurtful comments he’d made over the last few years – different people who had probably been made to feel terrible about themselves by his scathingly well-chosen words. Not only Blaine, but people at McKinley as well – Rachel, frequently; even Mercedes, once or twice. He raised his eyes to meet his father’s gaze guiltily, though he could only hold it for a moment before looking away. His voice was quiet and heavy as he confessed.

 

“It’s… not as far-fetched as you might think.”

 

“ _Kurt_.” Burt’s voice took on a stern note. “Look at me, son.”

 

Kurt reluctantly obeyed, tears obscuring his vision, his throat constricted and aching with the emotion he was trying so hard to hold back. When his father raised a gentle hand to brush his thumb lightly across the bruise that was still forming beneath his eye, Kurt lost just a little bit more of that barely maintained control, his lower lip trembling as a single tear slipped from his eye.

 

“Nothing you did… _nothing_ … could have made this your fault. You didn’t _deserve_ it. You didn’t ‘bring it on yourself’. Kurt… nothing you said or did to him… or anyone else… could possibly justify his doing _this_ to you.”

 

“I… I just don’t understand,” Kurt whispered, lowering his head as Burt pulled him forward into his arms. The rest of his words were nearly lost, muffled against the soft fabric of his dad’s shirt. “He… he said he _loved_ me…”

 

Burt was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse. “You don’t do this to somebody you _love_.”

 

“Coffee’s ready.”

 

Carol’s voice was hushed and unobtrusive as she entered the living room, and Kurt heard the quiet clink of glass against glass as she set the cups down on the coffee table. The steamy sweet scent of the coffee drifted to his nose – both comforting and painful at once in its familiarity.

 

So many of his best-remembered moments with Blaine had been accompanied by that scent.

 

Kurt felt the slight depression beneath him as Carol cautiously sat down on the other side of the couch, followed a moment later by the soft pressure of a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stiffly, awkwardly disentangled himself from his father’s embrace, sitting up a little and turning to give Carol a weak, tearful smile.

 

“Come here,” she murmured, her expression softening with compassion as her hand slid from his shoulder to wrap her arm around him, pulling him into a warm hug. “We love you so much,” she whispered, pressing a kiss against his temple. “Everything’s going to be all right, sweetie, I promise…”

 

Kurt closed his eyes, just relishing the comfort of her soft warmth against him, breathing in the sweet scent of the perfume he’d picked out for her just before her wedding to his dad. He tried not to think about anything but the sweet, quiet reassurance of this moment.

 

He wished he could believe that her words were true.

 

Kurt looked up at the sound of footsteps entering the room, not surprised to see Finn pacing toward the front door, opening it and peering out into the darkness with visible agitation. Since Blaine had left, he’d gone back and forth between the front door and the back door several times, going outside and walking around the house before coming back in again, as if afraid that Blaine was going to be so stupidly suicidal as to actually try to break back into the house. Finn was visibly tense and wired, his jaw set with quiet anger, his fists clenched at his sides.

 

He reminded Kurt of a particularly overprotective guard dog.

 

“Relax, Finn,” Burt advised in a gruff tone that was not without affection. “He’s not coming back tonight. I think he knows better than that.”

 

Finn didn’t reply, but he grudgingly closed and locked the front door again. He headed out of the room, pausing behind the sofa to give Kurt’s shoulder an awkward, overly gentle little squeeze before disappearing up the stairs to his own bedroom.

 

“I’ll be right back.” Burt sighed as he rose to his feet. “I’m just gonna make sure everything’s locked up.”

 

Kurt nodded silently, suppressing a sad little smile at his dad’s words. For all his reassurances to Finn, it seemed that Burt was experiencing a slight tendency toward overprotection at the moment as well.

 

 _If they’re all going a little crazy at the moment, can you blame them?_

 

Kurt felt a little sick, staring down at his folded, fidgeting hands in his lap.

  
 _It's your fault everyone's so freaked out..._

  
"Kurt, sweetie… you know none of this is your fault.” Carol’s hand slid slowly, soothingly, up and down Kurt’s arm, as she spoke to him in a quiet, reassuring tone, not really surprising him with the perception he had discovered in her almost as soon as he’d begun getting to know her. “It doesn’t matter what reasons he gave you for why he did it; nothing you could have done could justify what he did to you. _No one_ has the right to treat you like that, no matter what.”

 

Kurt didn’t respond, _couldn’t_. His throat ached, tight and constricted, his eyes burning with fresh tears drawn to the surface by the open compassion and too-accurate understanding in her words. He struggled to swallow past the knot that seemed to have formed in his throat, just staring down at his hands in silence.

 

“I know… I know you don’t want to be alone, Kurt,” Carol continued, her words soft and hesitant. “None of us do, honey. And trust me, I know what it’s like. Before your father, there hadn’t been anyone for… well, for _years_ … but… that’s not the point. What I’m trying to say is… everyone wants to have someone special. Everyone wants someone to… to make _them_ feel special. But… you _are_ special, Kurt, whether or not Blaine, or anyone else, can see that. You’re such an amazing person, and… and you deserve someone who can see that. It’s better to be alone than to be with someone who doesn’t know how incredible you are, and how to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Does that make sense?”

 

Kurt nodded automatically, although truth be told he’d found himself zoning out on the last half of her words. She’d lost him somewhere around the point where she started talking about how amazing and special he was.

 

 _Special… right._

 _If I’m so special, then how come no one but Blaine has ever wanted me?_

 

A cold ache settled deep in Kurt’s chest, and he lowered his head to rest against Carol’s shoulder – not only to take comfort from her closeness as he had before, but also to hide his face from her too-perceptive view.

 

 _Really, I’m lucky Blaine even noticed me… lucky he was willing to put up with so much from me in the first place. Is it really so shocking that he gets frustrated sometimes and loses his temper with me?_

 _I don’t know why he wants to be with me at all. I look like a pasty, pre-pubescent twelve-year-old, and have a weird, ugly body that somehow manages to be both skinny and fat at the same time. I’m weird and eccentric and bossy and bitchy and as high-maintenance as they come._

 _I should be grateful he wanted to_ touch _me in the first place, let alone stay with me for so long…_

 

“There’s nothing wrong with waiting for the right person, Kurt,” Carol was saying, and Kurt realized that she’d been talking the whole time he’d been mentally berating himself, and suddenly he felt just completely _exhausted_. “And sooner or later, he’ll come along. He did for me, you know. With a little help.” She nudged him lightly in the side, and Kurt forced a little laugh in response to her affectionate teasing.

 

Carol finally fell silent, one soft hand raised to run gently, rhythmically through his hair. Kurt allowed his troubled thoughts to fade away, focusing instead on the pleasant sensation, closing his eyes and drifting away from the pain and confusion of the present, into that warm, pleasant place between wakefulness and dreaming – and finally, beyond it.

 

*******************************************

 

When Burt returned from his checking of the locks – which took a suspiciously long time – his eyes were red-rimmed, and his whispered words were hoarse and a little choked.

 

“He’s out, huh?”

 

Carol nodded, giving her husband a warm, sympathetic smile as she continued to gently stroke through Kurt’s hair. “He’s worn out, poor thing.”

 

“We all are,” Burt sighed, glancing toward the front door again. “And… there’s nothing else we can do tonight.”

 

Carol nodded again before glancing uncertainly at Kurt. “Should we wake him?”

 

“No,” Burt decided. “Just let him lie down here. That kid knows better than to show his face around here again tonight, and the doors are locked, anyway.”

 

Carol gently slid out from under Kurt’s head on her shoulder, easing him down onto the sofa, while Burt took a soft throw blanket from the back of his recliner and lovingly spread it out over his son’s sleeping form. His hand lingered on Kurt’s shoulder for a long moment as he just stared down at his son’s bruised face, his vision slowly blurring, his eyes stinging.

  
 _How could anyone ever want to hurt him?  
_

“Come on, honey,” Carol said softly, her touch against his arm drawing him out of his troubled thoughts. “Let’s go to bed. We’ll figure out where to go from here in the morning.”

 

****************************************

 

Kurt woke up an hour later, with sudden, startling clarity. He blinked around at the darkened room, momentarily wondering what had awakened him so suddenly, and why he was sleeping on the sofa in the living room instead of in his own bed. Then, a soft tapping sound drew his attention, answering the first of his questions as he realized that the sound was continuing, rather than just starting.

 

Someone was very quietly knocking on the front door.

 

Kurt’s stomach lurched, his eyes widening as he stared at the door, swallowing hard.

  
 _Blaine..._

  
He hesitated just a moment, glancing behind him toward the stairs, before getting to his feet and slowly, cautiously approaching the door. His heart was racing, his breath quick and shaky as he reached out a trembling hand to rest on the door knob. After a moment’s indecision, he drew in a deep breath, turned the lock, and opened the door.

 

Blaine was standing there, eyes wide and shell-shocked, shining with tears in the unusually bright moon light. He opened his mouth to speak, though no words seemed to come. He shook his head helplessly for a moment before falling down onto his knees in front of Kurt, reaching up blindly for him, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

 

Kurt automatically reached out to him, and Blaine’s aimless hands found his and desperately caught them, shaking as he clung to Kurt and lowered his head to rest against the backs of Kurt’s hands.

 

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” he sobbed out, his voice choked and broken. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Kurt…”

 

The words tore at Kurt’s heart, and tears filled his own eyes. He wanted to tear his hands away from Blaine, to slam the door in his face and never look back – and he wanted to fall to the ground and embrace him, and tell him that all was forgiven. He wanted for everything to be as he’d always dreamed it’d be between them – for them to just be happy and in love and at peace with each other.

 

He wanted Blaine to love him enough to not hurt him again.

 

“I do, I do, Kurt, I swear it,” Blaine insisted fervently, looking up to meet Kurt’s eyes with passionate intensity, and Kurt wondered how much of his thoughts he’d accidentally voiced aloud. “Please, you have to believe me, Kurt…”

 

“I… I _want_ to,” Kurt whispered, aching with indecision. “But… we’ve been through this before…”

 

“Please, just… just let me talk to you,” Blaine pleaded, his words increasingly frantic and desperate as he went on. “Let me explain… I’ve been walking all over town and just trying so hard to think of what I can do to… to _fix_ me so that I won’t ever hurt you again, and I know I can, Kurt, I know I can be what you deserve, just… just please, let me _talk_ to you…”

 

“You’re talking to me,” Kurt interrupted, hope and distrust warring in his words. “Blaine, I… I’m listening, just…”

 

“Not here.” Blaine shook his head as he rose to his feet. “It’s just…” He glanced past Kurt into the house, then shook his head again. “Your dad will kill me if he finds me here.”

 

Kurt hesitated a moment, following Blaine’s gaze into the house, before looking back to meet Blaine’s eyes again. He bit his lip, momentarily torn, before nodding slowly.

 

“Okay,” he whispered. “Just a minute. Let me get my keys.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Thank you,” Blaine whispered, taking Kurt’s hand to his lips and kissing it softly, almost reverently, his eyes closed against the tears that still slid down his face. “Thank you, thank you, so much, Kurt.” He looked up, his dark eyes glistening in the moonlight that illuminated the porch, his gaze earnest and pleading as he promised, “I’m sorry… _so sorry_ , Kurt, and I’m going to prove it to you. It won’t ever happen again, sweetheart, I swear.”

 

“I know,” Kurt replied in a hushed, soothing tone, surprised by the unexpected sensation of his own tears on his cheeks. “I know…”

 

 _How am I crying?_ he wondered with a detached, almost clinical sort of curiosity. _How can I be crying when I don’t even_ feel _anything?_

But… Kurt wasn’t really sure that that was actually true.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Blaine or his feelings. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hurt and afraid and so confused by the continued abuse to which he’d been subjected, and the disturbing pattern they’d fallen into over the past few weeks. It wasn’t that his heart wasn’t torn in two, as it always was in these moments when Blaine pleaded for his forgiveness, making fervent, desperate promises that Kurt knew by now he’d never be able to keep.

 

It was just that, after so many times before, Kurt’s emotions felt almost _memorized_ – as if he’d long since mastered the motions to this little dance, and was simply going through the steps again because this was just how things were between them.

 

This was what they _did_.

 

 _But not this time,_ Kurt told himself. _This time, it really will be different._

 

As always, however, a piece of his heart was not so certain of that promise.

 

Blaine’s hands slid up his arms, drawing him in as he edged closer, and Kurt allowed it. His eyes were downcast, unable to meet Blaine’s gaze as Blaine sought his, tilting his head downward and looking up through thick dark lashes, with eyes that had the power to melt his resistance in an instant.

 

“Kurt,” Blaine whispered, lowering his mouth to press a tender, coaxing kiss against Kurt’s shoulder before looking up at him again. “Kurt… please look at me.”

 

Kurt reluctantly complied, his heart aching at the sheer beauty in the wide, dark eyes that gazed up at him in adoration.

 

“Please… please tell me you believe me, sweetheart… please tell me you believe that I mean it…”

 

“I… I do,” Kurt whispered, an honest reply, as he nodded slowly in acceptance. “I know you do…”

 

Of course he meant it.

 

He _always_ meant it – but it never seemed to matter.

 

Blaine’s face softened into an expression of gratitude as he lowered his hands to clasp Kurt’s, moving in close to capture Kurt’s parted lips in a slow, tender kiss. Kurt closed his eyes, ignoring the deep ache in his chest as he returned the kiss, feeling the cool moisture of their mingled tears on their faces between them as he focused just on _feeling_ that moment.

 

It didn’t feel like he wished it did.

 

Finally, Kurt broke the kiss, taking a step back and forcing a warm smile to his lips as he met Blaine’s eyes.

 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered.

 

Blaine nodded, smiling through his tears as he released Kurt’s hands to let him go. Kurt had just reached the door when Blaine’s voice made him pause.

 

“Kurt.”

 

He stopped but did not turn, only tilted his head back slightly to indicate that he was listening.

 

“I love you.”

 

Kurt’s chest clenched painfully, and he swallowed back a sob. He nodded, closing his eyes against fresh tears as he whispered a heartfelt response.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

He stepped into the dark, silent house, closing the door quietly behind him and making his way up the stairs with carefully light footsteps. He glanced warily toward Finn’s partially open bedroom door as he passed it, before slipping into his own room and closing the door behind him. He finally stopped in front of his dresser, staring down at the keys to his Navigator that rested on top of it.

 

 _I keep thinking that maybe this time… maybe it’ll finally work out,  but… it never does. It always turns out the same way, no matter how much I… I hope that it’ll be different…_

 _… no matter how much I love him…_

 

A brief flash of crystal clarity filled Kurt’s mind, and suddenly he was certain beyond any doubt that the choice he’d just made could only lead to pain. He was headed toward his own heartbreak, and he knew it – but he couldn’t stop himself from picking up the keys and heading for the door, even as the painful truth echoed in his thoughts.

 

 _This could turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life…_

 

***********************************************

 

Blaine paced back and forth across the porch, biting his lower lip, waiting anxiously for Kurt to return. He tried to quell his impatience, reminding himself that Kurt had to be careful and quiet to keep from waking up his family.

 

Still… he seemed to be taking a very long time.

 

 _Surely he didn’t get inside and then change his mind…_

 

A worried frown creased Blaine’s brow as he glanced uncertainly toward the door again.

 

 _And… he’d let me know if he did, right?_

 

Blaine thought back over every inflection of every word, every subtle nuance of expression he’d seen on Kurt’s face in the last few minutes, his heart fluttering nervously as he remembered the sorrow and hurt his boyfriend had been unable to conceal.

 

 _If he did, you’d deserve it. After what you did, he’s got no reason to trust you… can’t blame him for being confused…_

 _That’s why I just have to get him alone for a little while, just the two of us, away from all the tension and the misunderstandings, where it’s just us. If it can be just us, then everything will be all right. It’s always all right when it’s just the two of us together._

 _It’s other people that always have to get in the way._

 

Blaine cast a resentful glare toward the upstairs bedroom window where he knew Finn was sleeping.

 

 _Like Finn. If he’d just stop_ looking _at Kurt the way he does – and_ touching _him, as if he has a_ right _to… as if Kurt’s his and not mine… and I_ know _he does it just to drive me crazy, just to prove that Kurt will let him, and if Kurt would just_ stop letting _him, then none of this would ever have happened…_

 

Blaine took a deep breath, struggling to steady his nerves and rein in his anger as the sound of the front door swinging open spun him around on his heels.

 

 _Keep it together. You can’t afford to lose it right now. Lose it, and you’ll lose_ him – _for good this time._

 

Blaine froze, his thoughts scattering as the door opened to reveal not Kurt, but Finn Hudson, standing in the doorway. His heart lurched with terror, and he scrambled backward a few steps, barely managing to catch himself on the railing before he tumbled down the steps and off the porch completely.

 

“Relax.” When Finn spoke, his tone was calm, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I’m not out here to beat you up, Blaine – even though you _do_ totally deserve it.”

 

Blaine frowned, confused, shaking his head slightly. “Why not? Earlier you certainly didn’t seem to have a problem with it.”

 

Finn met his eyes with a level gaze, and the quiet anger Blaine could still see there kept his heart faltering between relief and wary uncertainty. Finn’s words, however, distracted Blaine completely from the physical threat, making his heart sink with their implications.

 

“Because Kurt specifically asked me not to.”

 

“Wait… Kurt _asked_ …? When did Kurt ask you that?”

 

“Just now.”

 

Blaine swallowed hard, fighting back a fresh wave of anger as he realized that Kurt had _sent_ his stepbrother out here for some reason – and that whatever that reason was, it probably meant that he wasn’t coming out again himself.

 

“Well if you’re not here to beat me up or whatever, then what _are_ you here for?” he demanded, glaring up at the larger boy in defiance.

 

Finn remained calm and quiet, holding Blaine’s gaze and holding up a familiar set of keys – the keys to Kurt’s Navigator – as he gave a simple answer.

 

“To drive you home.”

 

Blaine realized only then that Finn had never moved from the front doorway, as he retreated inside just a step, returning to view with one of Blaine’s two bags in each of his hands. Blaine’s eyes widened in indignant disbelief as he realized exactly what was happening.

 

“No,” he protested. “No, you can’t just make me leave…”

 

“Yeah. I can.”

 

“I want to talk to Kurt!” Blaine demanded, finally gathering enough nerve to step forward again, trying to edge past Finn and into the house. “I _need_ to talk to him, _now_ …”

 

“No.”

 

Finn blocked his path, taking a sideways step into his way, without actually touching him.

 

“Come on!” Blaine choked back a desperate sob, fighting for control of his voice as panic filled him. “Let me at least see him for a minute – let me at least say _goodbye_ …”

 

 _But it isn’t goodbye – because it_ can’t _be. If I can just see him for a minute, if I can just_ talk _to him… he just told me he loves me, he just kissed me and told me he forgave me and that he_ loves me _and this_ can’t be happening…

 

“Dude…” Finn’s tone was surprisingly patient. “Kurt doesn’t want to see you, or talk to you. So – you’ve got two choices right now. You can either get in the car, and I promise I’m not driving you out to the middle of nowhere somewhere to beat the crap out of you. It’ll be the most uncomfortable drive ever, yeah – but I swear you’ll get home in one piece. Or, I can go inside and wake up Kurt’s dad – and then call the police, and hope they have time to get here before he kills you.” He was quiet for a moment, allowing his words to sink in, before concluding softly, “Up to you.”

 

Blaine’s frustrations were rising, but with them came a heavy sense of defeat. As much as he hated it, as much as he wished he was big and strong enough to shove past Finn and get inside to Kurt, Blaine knew that he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point. If Finn was determined not to let him inside, there wasn’t anything he could physically do about it.

 

And the last thing he wanted was for Burt Hummel to find out he was there.

 

Blaine finally turned and stepped off the porch, walking to the passenger side of the Navigator, as Finn locked the front door and pulled it shut behind him. When he heard the quiet chirping sound of the doors unlocking, Blaine reluctantly got into the car – then immediately took out his cell phone and hit the speed dial button that would connect him with Kurt’s phone.

 

His heart sank as the driver’s side door opened, and he heard the familiar sound of Kurt’s ring tone for him – Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream”. Finn gave him a look that was almost sympathetic as he slid into the driver’s seat.

 

“Sorry, dude,” he explained matter-of-factly. “But that’s not going to work. Kurt asked me to take his phone with us.”

 

Blaine stared at him with slowly dawning understanding, despair tightening in his chest as he realized that Kurt had made his decision – that he hadn’t wanted to leave himself so much as the _opportunity_ to give Blaine another chance.

 

 _If he’d just let me explain… If I could just_ talk _to him, just for a minute…_

Blaine swallowed hard, looking down at his hands in his lap and blinking back tears.

 

 _But that’s the point, isn’t it? He’s_ done _with my explanations… done giving me second chances that turn out to be chances just to hurt him again…_

 _Done with_ me.

 

As Finn started the car and pulled out of the driveway, Blaine turned his head to stare sadly up at the darkened window of Kurt’s bedroom.

 

 _You’ve really done it this time. You’ve blown your last chance…_

 _… and you’ve lost him._

 

*************************************************

 

Kurt watched the blurred flashes of light that were the Navigator’s headlights, as Finn backed his car out into the street – his vision obscured by the hot tears that streaked his face.

 

It hurt. It hurt _so much_ – and he’d known it would the moment he’d made his choice – but he knew that it was the only choice he had.

 

Tomorrow, he would ask his dad to change his number, and to enroll him in McKinley again. Between Puck and Finn and the rest of the glee club, Kurt was pretty sure that they could keep him safe – safer than he was at Dalton, anyway.

 

Safer than he was with _Blaine._

 

 _Once my number has changed, then I can get my phone back from Finn – and I can start trying to move on – trying to forget…_

 _… trying to accept that he never loved me the way I loved him… that he never could._

 _I wasn’t lying, Blaine. I wasn’t. I do love you… but…_

 _I just have to love me more._

 

As the taillights finally turned the corner onto the cross street and faded out of his vision, something in Kurt’s heart shattered – and he lowered his head into his arms and cried.


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue

  


  


#  _Six months later…_

 

Kurt stared down at the glowing screen of his phone, watching it do absolutely nothing – and _of course_ it was doing absolutely nothing, despite the half of his heart that was silently willing it to ring. He hadn’t really expected it to ring in the first place, really – because he was pretty sure that the person he was thinking of didn’t have his new cell phone number.

 

Also, it was three in the morning.

 

 _And I’ve still got_ his _number, though…_

 

Kurt scrolled through his contacts – not far – until he found the name that, for some strange reason, filled his mind tonight like it hadn’t in weeks. That was not to say that he didn’t still _think_ of him, on a nearly daily basis. It was just that finally, thinking of him didn’t send Kurt spiraling into a funk that would last hours while Finn or Mercedes or whoever else happened to be around at the moment struggled to pull him out of it and get his mind on something else.

 

Finally, Kurt was starting to feel _happy_ again.

 

But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten.

 

If he’d forgotten, he wouldn’t have entered Blaine’s number into his new phone only a few minutes after he’d gotten it.

 

 _Not so I can call him,_ he’d told himself. _Just so I’ll know if he does get my number again, and tries to call me…_

 

But Blaine hadn’t called him – and Kurt hadn’t called Blaine.

 

He knew he’d made the right choice that night, even if he hadn’t known he was going to make it until a few moments before he actually did. He knew that if he’d gotten into his car with Blaine and driven off to talk somewhere, Blaine wouldn’t have hurt him – not that night, anyway. He would have explained and apologized some more and made tearful, heartfelt promises that he meant with every fiber of his being – and that he was no more capable of keeping than he was of turning himself straight.

 

With each day that passed finding Kurt feeling stronger, more confident, more like the self he’d known before everything that had happened with Karofsky, and then with Blaine, Kurt was more sure than ever that he’d made the right choice.

 

But… he still loved Blaine.

 

 _I miss him. Is that so wrong? I haven’t seen him or talked to him since that night, and… and I just want to know that he’s okay…_

Kurt rose from his bed and stepped out into the hall, glancing up and down it, his phone tucked behind him – then stifled a laugh at his own ridiculous paranoia before ducking back into his room and closing and locking the door. Even on the off chance that any of his family might still be awake at this hour, it was next to impossible that they might hear him through his closed and locked bedroom door.

 

He settled back down, cross-legged on his mattress, staring at the phone for another minute or so. He took a few deep but shaky breaths, willing himself once more to make a decision, either way – and once again, he had no idea which choice he would take until he had already hit the call button and raised the phone to his ear.

 

It didn’t ring, and a moment later Kurt heard that painfully sweet, familiar voice in his ear. He closed his eyes, swallowing back the knot in his throat at the sound, and waited until Blaine’s recorded voicemail message had ended. He jumped a little at the sound of the beep, drawing in one last breath before forcing himself to speak.

 

******************************************

 

“Hey. It’s me. Kurt. Um… I don’t even know why I’m doing this, but… well, yes I do. I – I think I’m ready to talk about it. What happened. And – if you want to talk about it, then – meet me at the Lima Bean tomorrow afternoon at five. I’ll be there… probably. I – I want to be there. I think I do. I may change my mind. Again. But – but this is probably the only shot we’ll have at any – I don’t know, closure or whatever. So – yeah. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

 

Blaine arrived at the Lima Bean at four o’clock – and by the time he got there, he’d long since memorized the rambling, somewhat confusing message he’d found on his phone that morning. The first couple of times he’d listened to it, the words had barely registered at all – just the sweet sound of Kurt’s voice, the one voice he’d thought he’d never hear again.

 

He was nervous and trembling when he made his coffee order – and two cups later, with fifteen minutes yet to go before Kurt was supposed to show up, Blaine wasn’t feeling any less jittery and uncertain. Blaine’s mouth was dry and his heart was racing, his stomach lurching as he glanced down at his watch and saw that he was only minutes away from – whatever was going to happen whenever Kurt got there.

 

If _he gets here… he said he might not…_

 

Blaine ran an anxious hand through his hair – then winced, wondering how badly he’d just messed it up. He considered getting up and making a quick visit by the men’s room mirror – but then he froze.

 

Kurt was standing at the counter, smiling as he gave his order to the young woman behind it. He said something that made her laugh, and he laughed with her as he accepted his change and turned toward Blaine’s table.

 

Suddenly, Blaine _really_ wished he’d had time for that one last once-over – because Kurt looked positively magnificent. It wasn’t so much his outfit – though of course, that was impeccable as always – but something about the way he carried himself… poised and confident in a way that Blaine had rarely seen him, calm and together and almost _regal_ as he closed the distance between them and primly took the seat across from Blaine.

 

Neither spoke for a long moment. They only made eye contact for just an instant before Blaine found himself staring down at his coffee, cupped between his hands. He opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ – but couldn’t seem to find the words.

 

Kurt found them first.

 

“How are you?”

 

Blaine glanced up at him again, uncertain – and stunned by the brief flash of soft vulnerability, the utter sincerity he saw in Kurt’s crystal blue eyes. Blaine’s heart was suddenly in his throat, and his eyes burned as he stared down at the table again.

 

“I… I… better,” he finally managed. “A lot better, I think.”

 

When Kurt didn’t say anything further, Blaine went on, desperate to fill the silence, not just with meaningless words, but with all the things he’d wished he could say for the past few months.

 

“I… I talked to my mom about it. About us.” He hesitated before looking up to meet Kurt’s eyes and clarifying softly, “About… what I _did_.”

 

Kurt raised a single eyebrow in surprise, his expression inscrutable, but still he said nothing.

 

“She paid for me to go to therapy. Anger management and… and communication and relationship skills. She’s been… amazing, really. Really supportive…”

 

“And… what does your dad say about all this?”

 

Kurt finally spoke up, his voice quiet and cautious, but without accusation or judgment. When Blaine looked up at him again, he saw genuine curiosity and concern in his gaze – and maybe just the slightest trace of hope.

 

The question, however, gave Blaine pause.

 

It wasn’t one he particularly wanted to answer.

 

 _But… you owe him the truth, at this point. You owe him a lot more than that, but it’s the least you can give…_

 

“I… I don’t think he even knows about it, to be honest,” Blaine began, hating the tremor in his voice as he found himself once again staring down at the table. “I know I… I talked a lot about my dad, before, and… and how hard things were between us… but… what I didn’t tell you was… he doesn’t actually live with us anymore. Hasn’t, actually, for… for several years now.”

 

When Blaine managed to look up again, Kurt’s eyes were wide with surprise, as if for a moment he’d forgotten to keep his cool composure in place. “Why not?” he asked, shaking his head slightly in confusion. “I mean… I’m sorry, that’s rude. It’s just… you never said…”

 

“I know,” Blaine admitted with a heavy sigh. “And I’m sorry, Kurt. It’s just – well – my family’s been through a lot in the past few years, and… and I just wasn’t ever really sure how to tell you. My dad…” He drew in a deep breath, forcing the words out in a rush. “… he used to hit my mom. Not… not just hit her, really. He’d – he’d _beat_ her, Kurt.”

 

He looked up again, and somehow, the stricken expression of sadness and sympathy on Kurt’s face made it easier, not harder, to go on.

 

“I didn’t mean to do it,” he blurted out, not trying to fight the tears that slipped down his face as his voice began to rise with the emotions bubbling up inside him, pouring out in his words. “I mean… I never thought I’d end up being… _that guy_. I _hated_ him for what he’d done, and… and I swore I’d never… but… but then I _did_ , and… and then I did it again… and again, and… and I was so scared of losing you, Kurt. I was scared to tell you the truth because I was afraid that you’d leave me if you knew… and I was scared, so… so I said things to make you think it was you and not me, that it was your fault, because I knew that if for one second you realized how fucked up and wrong _I_ was, then… then you’d leave me, but… but it wasn’t. It wasn’t ever your fault. I know that. I – I _always_ knew that… but I couldn’t stop, and… and then that ‘one second’ _happened_ , and…”

 

“And here we are.”

 

Blaine flinched slightly, finally hearing in Kurt’s voice the first trace of the disgust that he’d feared – disgust mingled with the pain of his memories, and for a moment, Blaine was transported back to that dark, ugly time when he’d deliberately preyed on the vulnerability and insecurity he could hear in Kurt’s words now.

 

“You… you _deliberately_ made me feel like… like I deserved it. Like I brought it on myself.”

 

Blaine closed his eyes against his tears, shaking his head as his heart sank with despair.

 

“I did,” he confessed simply, his voice quiet and small. “I did – and I know it was sick, and so wrong, Kurt, trying to make you feel that way. That’s just how – how twisted and fucked up my thought processes were then. And I know that being afraid of losing you doesn’t make it okay. It’s no excuse because – I wasn’t letting you _be_ you, you know? And… and I’m trying to own up to it now. I’m trying to make it right. And… the therapy _is_ helping, Kurt.”

 

Blaine sought Kurt’s gaze, desperate to make him understand.

 

“Talking to my mom – that’s helping, too. Hearing what it was like from _her_ side. I – I never want to hurt you, or anyone – like she was hurt. Like _you_ were hurt. Not ever again. I know that doesn’t… doesn’t necessarily mean anything to you right now. It doesn’t really matter, and it probably doesn’t change anything, but – but I just need you to know how sorry I am.” Blaine swallowed hard, struggling to rein in his emotions, before looking up to meet Kurt’s eyes again and adding softly, “Thank you. For – for giving me the chance to tell you that.”

 

Kurt nodded slowly, staring down at his hands, folded carefully on the table. After a moment, he spoke, his words soft and measured, though his voice trembled slightly with the emotion he was fighting to hold back.

 

“Thank you for… for your apology.” He hesitated, still not looking at Blaine. “I… I accept it… and I’m glad you’re doing better.” Finally, Kurt looked up to meet Blaine’s eyes, and his heart ached at the tears he could see shining there. “I miss you, Blaine,” Kurt admitted in a voice barely over a whisper. “And… I still love you. But… I can’t _be_ with you.”

 

It _hurt_.

 

Blaine swallowed hard, blinking back fresh tears as he forced himself to nod in acceptance.

 

“Not now,” Kurt went on softly. “Maybe not ever. Not until – not _unless_ I trust _myself_ enough to know that if it ever did happen again – I could walk away again. I – I almost couldn’t the last time, and – and if I let you in again…” Kurt shook his head sadly. “I’m just not there yet,” he concluded. “But… thank you. For seeing me, and… and for getting help. That – that means a lot.”

 

Kurt rose to his feet, and Blaine fought back the feeling of panic he felt at the knowledge that once again, Kurt was about to walk out of his life. He reached out before he knew what he was doing, trembling fingers catching with Kurt’s – and Kurt froze, staring down at their barely joined hands for a long moment.

 

“Not there yet,” Blaine echoed in a hoarse whisper. “But… but you _might_ get there?”

 

Kurt’s expression softened, and his fingers shifted around Blaine’s, gently squeezing his hand. “I’m working on it,” he replied. “Working on _me_.”

 

Blaine smiled bravely up at Kurt through the tears that blinded him, nodding. “I’m working on me, too.”

 

“Good,” Kurt replied softly, hesitating a moment before gently disentangling his fingers from Blaine’s. “Goodbye, Blaine.”

 

And even as Kurt walked away, Blaine felt a sense of hope rising up within him – because he _was_ getting better, he knew it, with each passing day. He was unlearning the bad habits he’d taken from his father, and learning how to be in love without losing himself so completely in it that he’d hurt the one he loved rather than lose them.

 

They hadn’t actually said goodbye, six months ago – but somehow that had felt so much more final than this. This didn’t feel like forever. This felt as if he still had a _chance_ to undo all the damage he’d done before.

 

 _And maybe, someday… I’ll have the chance to prove to him that I know how to love him like he deserves to be loved…_

 

“See you later, Kurt,” Blaine whispered as he watched Kurt walk away, though Kurt was too far away by now to hear the words. “Because… I refuse to believe that this is goodbye."


	11. Alternative Ending

Alternative Ending

  


  


#  _Six months later…_

 

Kurt stared down at the glowing screen of his phone, watching it do absolutely nothing – and _of course_ it was doing absolutely nothing, despite the half of his heart that was silently willing it to ring. He hadn’t really expected it to ring in the first place, really – because he was pretty sure that the person he was thinking of didn’t have his new cell phone number.

 

Also, it was three in the morning.

 

 _And I’ve still got_ his _number, though…_

 

Kurt scrolled through his contacts – not far – until he found the name that, for some strange reason, filled his mind tonight like it hadn’t in weeks. That was not to say that he didn’t still _think_ of him, on a nearly daily basis. It was just that finally, thinking of him didn’t send Kurt spiraling into a funk that would last hours while Finn or Mercedes or whoever else happened to be around at the moment struggled to pull him out of it and get his mind on something else.

 

Finally, Kurt was starting to feel _happy_ again.

 

But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten.

 

If he’d forgotten, he wouldn’t have entered Blaine’s number into his new phone only a few minutes after he’d gotten it.

 

 _Not so I can call him,_ he’d told himself. _Just so I’ll know if he does get my number again, and tries to call me…_

 

But Blaine hadn’t called him – and Kurt hadn’t called Blaine.

 

He knew he’d made the right choice that night, even if he hadn’t known he was going to make it until a few moments before he actually did. He knew that if he’d gotten into his car with Blaine and driven off to talk somewhere, Blaine wouldn’t have hurt him – not that night, anyway. He would have explained and apologized some more and made tearful, heartfelt promises that he meant with every fiber of his being – and that he was no more capable of keeping than he was of turning himself straight.

 

With each day that passed finding Kurt feeling stronger, more confident, more like the self he’d known before everything that had happened with Karofsky, and then with Blaine, Kurt was more sure than ever that he’d made the right choice.

 

But… he still loved Blaine.

 

 _I miss him. Is that so wrong? I haven’t seen him or talked to him since that night, and… and I just want to know that he’s okay…_

Kurt rose from his bed and stepped out into the hall, glancing up and down it, his phone tucked behind him – then stifled a laugh at his own ridiculous paranoia before ducking back into his room and closing and locking the door. Even on the off chance that any of his family might still be awake at this hour, it was next to impossible that they might hear him through his closed and locked bedroom door.

 

He settled back down, cross-legged on his mattress, staring at the phone for another minute or so. He took a few deep but shaky breaths, willing himself once more to make a decision, either way – and once again, he had no idea which choice he would take until he had already hit the call button and raised the phone to his ear.

 

It didn’t ring, and a moment later Kurt heard that painfully sweet, familiar voice in his ear. He closed his eyes, swallowing back the knot in his throat at the sound, and waited until Blaine’s recorded voicemail message had ended. He jumped a little at the sound of the beep, drawing in one last breath before forcing himself to speak.

 

******************************************

 

“Hey. It’s me. Kurt. Um… I don’t even know why I’m doing this, but… well, yes I do. I – I think I’m ready to talk about it. What happened. And – if you want to talk about it, then – meet me at the Lima Bean tomorrow afternoon at five. I’ll be there… probably. I – I want to be there. I think I do. I may change my mind. Again. But – but this is probably the only shot we’ll have at any – I don’t know, closure or whatever. So – yeah. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

 

Blaine arrived at the Lima Bean at four o’clock – and by the time he got there, he’d long since memorized the rambling, somewhat confusing message he’d found on his phone that morning. The first couple of times he’d listened to it, the words had barely registered at all – just the sweet sound of Kurt’s voice, the one voice he’d thought he’d never hear again.

 

He was nervous and trembling when he made his coffee order – and two cups later, with fifteen minutes yet to go before Kurt was supposed to show up, Blaine wasn’t feeling any less jittery and uncertain. Blaine’s mouth was dry and his heart was racing, his stomach lurching as he glanced down at his watch and saw that he was only minutes away from – whatever was going to happen whenever Kurt got there.

 

If _he gets here… he said he might not…_

 

Blaine ran an anxious hand through his hair – then winced, wondering how badly he’d just messed it up. He considered getting up and making a quick visit by the men’s room mirror – but then he froze.

 

Kurt was standing at the counter, smiling as he gave his order to the young woman behind it. He said something that made her laugh, and he laughed with her as he accepted his change and turned toward Blaine’s table.

 

Suddenly, Blaine _really_ wished he’d had time for that one last once-over – because Kurt looked positively magnificent. It wasn’t so much his outfit – though of course, that was impeccable as always – but something about the way he carried himself… poised and confident in a way that Blaine had rarely seen him, calm and together and almost _regal_ as he closed the distance between them and primly took the seat across from Blaine.

 

Neither spoke for a long moment. They only made eye contact for just an instant before Blaine found himself staring down at his coffee, cupped between his hands. He opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ – but couldn’t seem to find the words.

 

Kurt found them first.

 

“How are you?”

 

Blaine glanced up at him again, uncertain – and stunned by the brief flash of soft vulnerability, the utter sincerity he saw in Kurt’s crystal blue eyes. Blaine’s heart was suddenly in his throat, and his eyes burned as he stared down at the table again.

 

“I… I… better,” he finally managed. “A lot better, I think.”

 

When Kurt didn’t say anything further, Blaine went on, desperate to fill the silence, not just with meaningless words, but with all the things he’d wished he could say for the past few months.

 

“I… I talked to my mom about it. About us.” He hesitated before looking up to meet Kurt’s eyes and clarifying softly, “About… what I _did_.”

 

Kurt raised a single eyebrow in surprise, his expression inscrutable, but still he said nothing.

 

“She paid for me to go to therapy. Anger management and… and communication and relationship skills. She’s been… amazing, really. Really supportive…”

 

“And… what does your dad say about all this?”

 

Kurt finally spoke up, his voice quiet and cautious, but without accusation or judgment. When Blaine looked up at him again, he saw genuine curiosity and concern in his gaze – and maybe just the slightest trace of hope.

 

The question, however, gave Blaine pause.

 

It wasn’t one he particularly wanted to answer.

 

 _But… you owe him the truth, at this point. You owe him a lot more than that, but it’s the least you can give…_

 

“I… I don’t think he even knows about it, to be honest,” Blaine began, hating the tremor in his voice as he found himself once again staring down at the table. “I know I… I talked a lot about my dad, before, and… and how hard things were between us… but… what I didn’t tell you was… he doesn’t actually live with us anymore. Hasn’t, actually, for… for several years now.”

 

When Blaine managed to look up again, Kurt’s eyes were wide with surprise, as if for a moment he’d forgotten to keep his cool composure in place. “Why not?” he asked, shaking his head slightly in confusion. “I mean… I’m sorry, that’s rude. It’s just… you never said…”

 

“I know,” Blaine admitted with a heavy sigh. “And I’m sorry, Kurt. It’s just – well – my family’s been through a lot in the past few years, and… and I just wasn’t ever really sure how to tell you. My dad…” He drew in a deep breath, forcing the words out in a rush. “… he used to hit my mom. Not… not just hit her, really. He’d – he’d _beat_ her, Kurt.”

 

He looked up again, and somehow, the stricken expression of sadness and sympathy on Kurt’s face made it easier, not harder, to go on.

 

“I didn’t mean to do it,” he blurted out, not trying to fight the tears that slipped down his face as his voice began to rise with the emotions bubbling up inside him, pouring out in his words. “I mean… I never thought I’d end up being… _that guy_. I _hated_ him for what he’d done, and… and I swore I’d never… but… but then I _did_ , and… and then I did it again… and again, and… and I was so scared of losing you, Kurt. I was scared to tell you the truth because I was afraid that you’d leave me if you knew… and I was scared, so… so I said things to make you think it was you and not me, that it was your fault, because I knew that if for one second you realized how fucked up and wrong _I_ was, then… then you’d leave me, but… but it wasn’t. It wasn’t ever your fault. I know that. I – I _always_ knew that… but I couldn’t stop, and… and then that ‘one second’ _happened_ , and…”

 

“And here we are.”

 

Blaine flinched slightly, finally hearing in Kurt’s voice the first trace of the disgust that he’d feared – disgust mingled with the pain of his memories, and for a moment, Blaine was transported back to that dark, ugly time when he’d deliberately preyed on the vulnerability and insecurity he could hear in Kurt’s words now.

 

“You… you _deliberately_ made me feel like… like I deserved it. Like I brought it on myself.”

 

Blaine closed his eyes against his tears, shaking his head as his heart sank with despair.

 

“I did,” he confessed simply, his voice quiet and small. “I did – and I know it was sick, and so wrong, Kurt, trying to make you feel that way. That’s just how – how twisted and fucked up my thought processes were then. And I know that being afraid of losing you doesn’t make it okay. It’s no excuse because – I wasn’t letting you _be_ you, you know? And… and I’m trying to own up to it now. I’m trying to make it right. And… the therapy _is_ helping, Kurt.”

 

Blaine sought Kurt’s gaze, desperate to make him understand.

 

“Talking to my mom – that’s helping, too. Hearing what it was like from _her_ side. I – I never want to hurt you, or anyone – like she was hurt. Like _you_ were hurt. Not ever again. I know that doesn’t… doesn’t necessarily mean anything to you right now. It doesn’t really matter, and it probably doesn’t change anything, but – but I just need you to know how sorry I am.” Blaine swallowed hard, struggling to rein in his emotions, before looking up to meet Kurt’s eyes again and adding softly, “Thank you. For – for giving me the chance to tell you that.”

 

Kurt nodded slowly, staring down at his hands, folded carefully on the table. After a moment, he spoke, his words soft and measured, though his voice trembled slightly with the emotion he was fighting to hold back.

 

“Thank you for… for your apology.” He hesitated, still not looking at Blaine. “I… I accept it… and I’m glad you’re doing better.” Finally, Kurt looked up to meet Blaine’s eyes, and his heart ached at the tears he could see shining there. “I miss you, Blaine,” Kurt admitted in a voice barely over a whisper. “And… I still love you. But… I can’t _be_ with you.”

 

It _hurt_.

 

Blaine swallowed hard, blinking back fresh tears as he forced himself to nod in acceptance.

 

“Not now,” Kurt went on softly. “Maybe not ever. Not until – not _unless_ I trust _myself_ enough to know that if it ever did happen again – I could walk away again. I – I almost couldn’t the last time, and – and if I let you in again…” Kurt shook his head sadly. “I’m just not there yet,” he concluded. “But… thank you. For seeing me, and… and for getting help. That – that means a lot.”

 

Kurt rose to his feet, and Blaine fought back the feeling of panic he felt at the knowledge that once again, Kurt was about to walk out of his life. He reached out before he knew what he was doing, trembling fingers catching with Kurt’s – and Kurt froze, staring down at their barely joined hands for a long moment.

 

“Not there yet,” Blaine echoed in a hoarse whisper. “But… but you _might_ get there?”

 

Kurt’s expression softened, and his fingers shifted around Blaine’s, gently squeezing his hand. “I’m working on it,” he replied. “Working on _me_.”

 

Blaine smiled bravely up at Kurt through the tears that blinded him, nodding. “I’m working on me, too.”

 

“Good,” Kurt replied softly, hesitating a moment before gently disentangling his fingers from Blaine’s. “Goodbye, Blaine.”

 

And even as Kurt walked away, Blaine felt a sense of hope rising up within him – because he _was_ getting better, he knew it, with each passing day. He was learning to rein in his anger when he needed to, learning to say the right things at the right moments. He was getting so much better at giving people – his mom, his therapist, Kurt – exactly what they needed to hear when they needed to hear it.

  
 _Yeah… therapy’s been really good for me..._

  
They hadn’t actually said goodbye, six months ago – but somehow that had felt so much more final than this. This didn’t feel like forever. This felt as if he still had a _chance_ to get Kurt back, if he just waited it out and played his cards right.

  
 _And this time… I won’t screw it up..._

  
"Goodbye, Kurt,” Blaine whispered, long after Kurt was too far away to hear, a soft smile forming on his lips as he pressed his still-tingling fingertips against them. “But not for long.”


End file.
